Long Live The King
by Defiant Guardian
Summary: Two prophecies are spoken; one to Albus Dumbledore, and the other to Ragnarok, the King of Goblins. Harry and Hermione are now joined by a newly found Crown Prince in being the Chosen Ones who can defeat the Dark Lord. They have the power to wreak havoc upon those who live on the fruits of corruption in Magical Britain, but the war for peace demands sacrifice.
1. Prologue

" _There are good people who are dealt a bad hand by fate, and bad people who live long, comfortable, privileged lives, a small twist of fate can save or end a life; random chance is a permanent powerful player in each of our lives, and in human history as well."_ _\- Jeff Greenfield_

 **PROLOGUE**

 _ **12**_ _**February 1979**_

A goblin – one of unusually large stature, being about a foot taller than the other goblins that were rushing about outside his extensive office – sat behind his great wooden desk and contemplated the day's workings.

The heavy losses that Universal Brooms Ltd. incurred for the last few years had finally caught up to the once popular company. Although they came up with several prototypes of above average brooms, they were simply not good enough to compete with other companies such as Nimbus. With many meetings between bank officials and Jon Terkweed, who represented the company when dealing with the goblins, it was finally decided that the debts owed to Gringotts were too heavy and vast for there to be any chance of recovery. They were forced to officially file for bankruptcy.

His Head of Management had assigned a whole team of executives to handle the assets, which were gained with the permission of the owners, in order to aid the owners in the repayment of their debts. Now, he was to sign the Order of Restrictions that were to be placed upon those who were involved with the company, copies of which would be ready to be sent to the Ministry of Magic for their own official records.

The documents were sat on top of the desk in front of him, fresh ink still drying upon the parchment, waiting to be collected by an executive, when a sudden glow started shining from a bottom drawer at the side of his desk.

Ragnarok widened his eyes and rushed to pull the drawer open. Inside, lying within the polished wood, was a thick old tome which was growing brighter as the moments passed. He bent down to grip the book and lifted it, slightly struggling due to its great weight, and placed it gently on the table – documents laid forgotten underneath.

He was aware that the brightness could only mean one thing, the thought of it nearly overwhelmed him. _Could it be?_

Ragnarok stared at the cover, taking deep breaths as he read the title written in the ancient language of Latin.

 _Annales Regum et Reginarum Maleficus._

'The Records of the Magical Kings and Queens,' he roughly translated.

Furrowing his thick, furry eyebrows, he clutched at the pages and pulled open the large book to the middle, where the glow seemed to be coming from. The hefty pages flipped and thumped onto the surface of the desk, Ragnarok gaped at the page he opened up to.

The light from the book was slowly dimming, and with the fading of the glow came the appearance of newly inked words on the blank page.

 ** _Dated: 12_ _th_ _February 1979_**

 _Crown Prince Nicholas Westerly (Magical) of Houses Pendragon, Emrys, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor – **Born. [Currently Stable]**_

 _Anna Smith neè Westerly (Non-Magical) – **Deceased. [Cause of Death: Infection, Severe Bleeding]**_

"Your Majesty?"

Ragnarok glanced up at the new arrival within his office. His trusted advisor and current Head of Gringotts, Lord Rockstooth, stood just inside the small double doors he had entered through, looking out of breath and slightly relieved at the sight of the king.

"Rockstooth." Ragnarok acknowledged him.

"Sir, I felt the wards trigger – they gave an indication to an alien object which could cause you harm. Are you well?" the smaller goblin said as he waddled closer to his King, glancing around to be sure of no present dangers, hand firmly grasping the hilt of the sword that laid on his hip, and then resting his eyes upon the book that laid on top of the royal's desk.

Ragnarok narrowed his eyes at his advisor. "The wards triggered?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then perhaps you should consider weakening the wards. The only danger here is my incense at your belief I cannot protect myself." Ragnarok glared at Rockstooth who bowed his head in apology and respect.

At one time, a few decades ago, the look he gave would have caused the smaller goblin to shake in trepidation. As it were, Ragnarok was glad, and somewhat annoyed, to have a true friend who did not fear him or the power he possessed.

"I am sorry, Majesty, but you understand this is a formality which you must follow."

The King let out a long-suffering sigh and nodded his head. Seeing this, Rockstooth decided to speak again, as Ragnarok did not give any indication that he would give an explanation to the activation of the wards placed on the King's study, "May I ask what could have caused the trigger?"

Ragnarok considered for a moment before answering, "Seeing that all of the protections placed on this office are renewed to newer and more advanced ones every month, the wards may not have been able to identify this," he pointedly looked at the large tome in front of him, "as anything other than foreign."

Rockstooth shot a curious look at his old friend. "What is it?"

"This is an ancient written archive of all information pertaining to the wizarding kings, queens, and heirs apparent of Britain."

"The wards triggered because of a book." Rockstooth gave a look of disbelief to his senior in rank and age.

"Indeed – rather what the book is charmed to do, though."

Disgust marred the younger goblin's face as he ferociously growled at the tome, "Why do we have a book that should be with the wizards in our possession?"

"Now, my lord. This book is not the cause of our kind's woes but rather, it is its salvation." Rockstooth scoffed as Ragnarok shot him a pointed angry glance before continuing,"My ancestors were given this tome by the last Queen of Magical Britain. Her children were barren of magic, disabling them from having any legitimate claim to the throne so, with her death, we were given the book to protect her descendants – you are aware of the pure-blood wizarding opinions of non-magical children born to highborn magical families?"

"It's abhorrent," Rockstooth answered, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Undeniably. The royal Prince and Princesses had eventually married and all of them were not able to create a legitimate heir, all of the Queen's grandchildren also lacked magical ability. They were all eventually forced to leave the wizarding community and live within the mundane world. Queen Eleanora feared for her children as well as her grandchildren's lives so asked help from her closest ally – our then king, Warnock. I suppose she saw it as the best choice – we were and are renowned for our ability in protecting treasure – and she believed them to be the greatest treasures of them all, an opinion we Goblins also share of our own young. If the records were kept with us, handed down through generations to generations of our Kings, the Queen was sure the knowledge of her children and grandchildren would remain protected until the time came in which a magical heir would be born."

"Their royal line has remained without an heir since the reign of Warnock?" Rockstooth asked, "That must be at least five hundred years, Your Majesty!"

To say that Rockstooth seemed shocked was an understatement.

"Yes. And what damage they have done without them. They have had a civil war between different families who thought themselves noble enough to rule the kingdom after the death of the Queen, resulting in the formation of their Wizengamot where all of these families had a seat – agreeing that a democracy would be the best way to solve their issues. Three Goblin Wars were fought due to their disrespect of our customs, something that would not have been required as a wizarding royal would have usually been knowledgeable of our traditions. A new dark lord has also risen, only a few decades after the fall of Grindelwald, embodying variants of all the ideals which belonged to the ancient families who dishonourably drove out the heirs of Queen Eleanora."

"Indeed, Sire. I find myself struggling to hold in laughter when I hear the Ministry is still publicly declaring opposition against Voldemort when most of his followers are within the Wizengamot itself. Do they honestly not wonder how that bastard is getting so many followers? Surely everyone knows that gold speaks."

Ragnarok hummed in agreement, a slight smile on the side of his lips, showing some of his razor sharp teeth. "You are correct, of course. We follow the gold that which feeds us – it is the simplest nature of all beings on this Earth – and the people with the most gold, other than our own people, are those within the ancient families of the Wizengamot."

"You think that a wizarding King or Queen could have avoided the current war?"

"I believe we could have prevented most of the wars that have occurred since Their Majesties Warnock and Eleanora. Wars with dark lords such as Grindelwald or Voldemort are unavoidable but would have been easily deterred with the presence of higher authority that outranked the corrupted Wizengamot."

Rockstooth nodded in thoughtfulness and curiously watched as his King looked back down to the large book still laid out flat in front of him.

"Is that why you are reading that book? I do not think it does well to dwell in the past and what could have been, Your Majesty."

Ragnarok glimpsed at his trusted friend for a moment, frowning then deciding that his advisor should know of the new development that had occurred.

"I do not read this for the history, my friend. I bring these records back from the dust for the future."

Rockstooth frowned in confusion. "Sire?"

"Do you remember the prophecy about the Promised Ones? It was made only a month ago." Ragnarok asked, turning the book around and pushing it across the desk so that it was right in front of Rockstooth who then leaned down to read the short piece of writing on the page.

It was later that Ragnarok would recall this memory as one of the most amusing he had, the wide shocked eyes of the advisor who had seen him through most of his failures and victories as a ruler would serve to humour him for the rest of his reign.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

 _ **Two Years Later,**_

 _ **24**_ _ **th**_ _ **November 1981**_

Another tiring day had passed. Ragnarok sat in his large palace home, his time of overseeing traditional procedures and signing documents as he usually did was as dreary as all the rest of the days that had passed after his coronation.

The recent end of the wizarding war which was led by Voldemort saw a rise in the previous declining wizarding economy. The sudden rush excited many of the goblins as, at the height of the war, all work was nearly scarce for them. Presently, witches and wizards no longer feared to leave their homes, businesses had begun to run again, and gold flowed freely between the happy populace. Malicious goblins, those that did not bother themselves with the promise of confidentiality, would also choose to mention that the members of the Wizengamot were also transferring money into the accounts of newly elected members of the Ministry of Magic – possibly to ensure the cover-up of their involvement with the Dark Lord.

As well as accounts spilling their gold as much as they could to wipe the blood off of their owner's hands, accounts had to also be frozen. Though goblins still held contempt for wizardkind, they still viewed the events that occurred at and around Godric's Hollow as tragic. An innocent child was stolen from both his father and mother in one night, left an orphan with just a few moments of destruction. The Potter accounts were locked, with the exception of the set trust fund that Harry Potter's parents had established for him until he became of-age to inherit all assets.

Ragnarok could not help but admire James and Lily Potter for acknowledging the worst outcome and preparing so thoroughly for it.

However, the King was informed of the slight change in procedure when it came to the last will and testament of the deceased Potters. They had received correspondence from the Ministry of Magic where they were sent an official copy of the documents that made Albus Dumbledore the main guardian of Harry Potter, making him responsible for his well-being as well as his finances, rather than Minerva McGonagall who was the last possible guardian mentioned within the will who was neither imprisoned, insane or dead.

By law, the goblins had no right to intervene with this action. They were only responsible for the protection of documents, such as wills and leases, as well as finances. Above this reasoning, goblins did not usually feel passionate enough for action against any misconduct that occurs in the wizarding world.

The Black accounts were also frozen as the deaths and imprisonments within the family led to there not being any apparent heirs to their properties. Laws regarding these circumstances state: 'A period of seventeen years and ten months must pass, without any present successors, before they are to be then handled by the wizarding government, to be distributed as seen fit.' Although there were no direct heirs to the large estate, Ragnarok was aware of some distant relatives who may attempt to claim the fortune.

Rockstooth had informed Ragnarok of the massive boom that had occurred in the magical British economy only a few days ago. The worth of the Galleon had increased by two percent in the space of nearly two months; the steepest incline that the currency had seen in over thirty years. This was the cause of the goblin's own celebrations.

While Ragnarok had attended and functioned as a witness to many duels throughout the country, he was able to observe the happiness of his people. It was obvious to say that Ragnarok was a very pleased king. His mood did not remain completely positive for the whole day, however.

Earlier in the afternoon, the book recording all wizarding royals had glowed a bright blood red. Ragnarok knew this to be a warning – the life of the heir was in mortal danger.

With this knowledge, the Goblin King had ordered his guards to find Rockstooth who arrived within a minute of his summoning. Ragnarok had then activated the enchantments around the book that would instantly transport him and Rockstooth to the location of the prince.

Upon arrival, both goblins were horrified and enraged at what they saw.

The Prince – not even three years of age – was left on the floor of a small prison-like room. His eyes were clenched shut, breaths coming out in long pained wheezes. Ragnarok could see several large blue and yellowing bruises around his half-naked body that was shivering violently from the cold air which drafted through the grey room. His black hair was matted across his forehead, a sheet of cold sweat covering him. The small boy's bones could be spotted through the thin layer of skin that barely protected him from whoever had abused him so.

Ragnarok growled in fury. He was well aware of the lack of honour and morals that humans possessed. He knew that they were the most despicable creatures on the planet. Their egotistical nature had made them believe that they were on top of the food chain, that they were permitted to restrain other creatures, keeping them as slaves or for entertainment. They had even gone as far as to fight statuses amongst themselves, whether it was the rich against the poor or the white skinned versus the coloured skinned. The humans had the world at their feet but they kept their views as primitive as they were thousands of years ago.

Through all of their faults – through all of their stupidity – Ragnarok had always thought there was a line. A line that not even humans could cross. However, the sight before him taught him that he was wrong to think so optimistically.

How could it be that this brutish civilisation had built machines and weapons that could reign the fires of hell upon whole cities before they have even created a world free from vile acts against innocent children? This blatant hatred against a child was the very epitome of everything that repulsed the goblins.

Ragnarok leaned down to the quivering child he knew to be Prince Nicholas and placed a hand on his damp forehead. The Goblin King felt the boy's magic reaching out to his own in desperation, detecting that he did not want to cause Nicholas any harm, begging him to help. Ragnarok snarled, still thoroughly disgusted by whoever did this to him, and let a flow of magic run down his arm and into the young Prince. The effect was instant as the boy's trembling had stopped, his scrunched face relaxed and then seemed peaceful. Several of his bruises had faded and his pasty skin had gained a bit of colour.

Taking off his thick black cloak that bared his sigil, a sword surrounded by a single flame, Ragnarok placed it on the ground beside the child. He then picked up the young boy and placed him on the cloak, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling the golden strings so it tightened around his neck. Ragnarok then placed his hands under Nicholas and picked him up once again, standing up with the small human child safely tucked in his arms.

Rockstooth, who had remained silent in his fury, had chosen then to speak. "Who could have done this? To a _child_ – a prince, no less!"

Ragnarok shook his head. "I do not know, Rockstooth. I assign you the task of finding out who lives here, however. I am aware that his mother had passed after his birth so that leaves the father and other relations from his extended family as suspects for the crimes against him. Approach me when you are finished with your investigation. Also, disguise yourself as human, we do not want the damned Ministry catching wind of this."

"Yes, Sire. But, the child . . ." Rockstooth trailed off.

"Do not worry. Warnock's promise of security shall be fulfilled. The Prince will be returning with me – as a ward of the Goblin Nation."

With that, Ragnarok had given his advisor a nod and then silently vanished, the small boy still in his arms.

The Goblin Nation did not have many hospitals as injuries were seen as prideful and sickness was a rarity. However, there were many goblin healers that existed with the highest amount of knowledge in the field of work they had chosen to specialise in. They had taken it upon themselves to not only study goblin methods of treatment but also mundane, centaur, elf, as well as many other approaches.

Knowing this, Ragnarok was confident that bringing the Prince back to the Cavelands where the goblins lived was the best decision. It was here that he would get the best treatment.

He brought the Prince back to his own home, laid him on one of the beds in the guest chambers and called upon the best healers he knew. It took them all about thirty minutes to arrive, Ragnarok stressing that it was not an emergency and they should not leave any of their patients if they could not. The healers were confused upon realising that they would not be treating their King but a human child. Ragnarok was grateful when they had chosen to stay silent and examine the child without question.

The healers had been working on the young Prince for a few hours. Once they had finished, they had approached him and told him that the boy was severely undernourished and that they had given him the necessary treatments to improve his immune system. He was now to take a series of potions to help him regain the average weight for a boy his age by ensuring he received all the right nutrients to grow healthily.

After the healers had left, Ragnarok was left alone with the toddler. He was yet to awake from his deep slumber, but Ragnarok liked it better that way.

He knew that, for a human child who had grown up in the conditions he had, surrounded by cruel mundane people, he would most probably not have the creative imagination that children were usually associated with. Ragnarok feared that, without this imagination, the boy would not take well to seeing a goblin. The King could only hope that Nicholas would trust his magical instincts and know that Ragnarok did not wish to cause him harm.

Ragnarok decided then to wait within the guest chambers, not wanting the young Prince to wake up alone. He ordered some of his passing guards to fetch all the documents that required his attention and bring them back to the chambers.

Once they had obliged, Ragnarok had conjured himself a desk facing the large queen-sized bed in front of him so he could work and also keep an eye on the boy.

As all documents were thoroughly read through and signed, gradually decreasing their numbers before there were none left, it had turned into the late hours of the evening. Ragnarok sat back in his chair and looked over to Nicholas.

For the past hour or so, the boy had been tossing and turning under the heavy sheets that covered him. Ragnarok suspected that the boy was having a nightmare and briefly wondered if he should wake him. However, the healers' instructions of allowing Nicholas to gain as much rest as he could had echoed in the King's mind and he had left the boy alone. It took about fifteen minutes before Nicholas had relaxed and went back to a peaceful sleep.

Ragnarok walked around his desk and stood to the side of the bed. He lifted his hand towards his chair and levitated it, sitting on it once he had placed it down. He narrowed his beady black eyes in contemplation of the slumbering Prince. It was astonishing how someone so small and fragile had such a great destiny ahead of him.

The Goblin King was reminded of the prophecy that was told by one of the rare goblin seers that the nation was aware of. Ragnarok knew the woman to be a creature of absolute lunacy, ironically only making sense when she told a prophecy, and he was lucky enough to hear the foretelling mentioning the Prince in front of him himself. He remembered being told by his guards that the seer wished to see him saying that it was a matter of great importance and was adamant in talking to him. Ragnarok did not see the harm in humouring her for some time and so allowed her to come into his office where her eyes had instantly glazed over and she spoke the words of the prophecy.

" _ **From the rage of war,**_

 _ **The Prince, The Lioness, and The Saviour approach as champions for all magical creatures.**_

 _ **The Prince who must become the king of wizards will join the king of goblins and they shall fight together as kin,**_

 _ **uniting with the Lioness and the Saviour,**_

 _ **and vanquishing their common enemy.**_

 _ **The Lioness of infinite magic shall stand beside the Prince.**_

 _ **The wise and the mighty leading a legion into burning flames,**_

 _ **emerging through the ashes to a new world.**_

 _ **Their souls shall be bound – a union destined to last a lifetime – and forged by the fates.**_

 _ **They will be the joint power of the Saviour marked as the dark lord's equal on All Hallows' Eve.**_

 _ **They shall have the might to destroy bigotry.**_

 _ **They shall have the might to govern empires.**_

 _ **The Age of Albion – an era of complete unification of all magical beings – will begin should the Saviour succeed and the dark lord dies.**_

 _ **Born in the fires of conflict,**_

 _ **The Prince, The Lioness and The Saviour are promised as the chosen ones."**_

It was obvious the moment that Ragnarok had first read the recording of the Prince's birth that the prophecy may have been a true prediction of the future. His thoughts were further confirmed when Harry Potter, the recently dubbed 'Boy-Who-Lived', had received a scar that was made by Lord Voldemort himself on Halloween, therefore making him the one marked by the dark lord.

Ragnarok figured that, as both the Prince and the Saviour – two of the five key people in the prophecy – had been revealed, the events within the prophecy were not something he could overlook.

He focused his eyes on the Prince once more. If the prophecy was correct, he and the young wizard in front of him would be kin to each other. The thought may have made him laugh if he thought it a few years ago, but now that Ragnarok had seen the abuse that Nicholas had already suffered in his short life, he could see how the boy could come to view him as family.

The prospect of raising an influential member of the wizarding world as a goblin was something that excited Ragnarok beyond anything else he could think of.

Ragnarok did not plan to exploit the child since doing so would go against everything he was taught. The Goblin Nation was known for its respect of women and children – no matter what type of being they were; they would never be harmed in the presence of a goblin. To allow doing so, would be the greatest act of dishonour a goblin could undertake. Ragnarok would never compromise his integrity in the most disgusting manner when there were other more ethical options available.

He knew that all the Prince needed was to be raised with an open mind and a vast education of various subjects which will include but not ever be limited to traditional goblin texts. Nicholas would be taught several different languages as well as the different approaches to subjects he had learned. As well as this, he would be broadened in his own personal abilities – where a wizard would wave his wand and cast the spell to summon an object to him, an elf would simply click its fingers and the object would vanish from its place and reappear in its hands. Nicholas would be trained in both methods of summoning as well as many others.

A cultured wizard in a position of leadership was what Magical Britain badly needed for a very long time. Ragnarok was determined to ensure that happened. All he needed now was to wait for Rockstooth to return from his investigations so Ragnarok would know how to proceed in gaining guardianship over the future king of wizards.

Ragnarok then contemplated another part of the prophecy. He was not as knowledgeable as he wanted to be on the subject of wizarding soul mates but knew that they were a true rarity. Under his estimation, there were only twenty-six documented soul bonds in the whole recorded history of wizardkind. However, according to the prophecy, a twenty-seventh soul bond would be added to that short list. Ragnarok had no inkling as to who the 'Lioness' could be but was sure she would, as the Prince and the Saviour had, reveal herself in time.

It was thinking of Nicholas' soul mate that Ragnarok was reminded of his own heartbreak.

The double doors that led into the guest chambers then creaked open slightly. From the crack, Rockstooth had peeked his head inside. "May I come in, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, of course. Have you completed your investigation?"

Rockstooth strolled inside the room, gently shutting the door before standing aside his King. His gruff voice was grave as he spoke. "Indeed I have, Sire. The abuser is most definitely the Prince's father since he is the only other inhabitant of the house. His financial status does not seem to be very weak although his physical condition is appalling. I believe he was inebriated when he opened his door to me and was unaware of the absence of his child. I took it upon myself to read his thoughts and watched the memories he had regarding his son. This was most definitely not the first time the prince was abused, the father has despised him ever since he came into the world and was left to him after the death of the mother."

Ragnarok nodded his head in contemplation. "I see. I know that the boy gained his royal status from his mother and she was the last of the line before his birth. That leaves nearly no one who can take him instead of his paternal family relations."

"The father's family is not capable of taking care of a child, Sire. Both grandparents are under state care and the father himself has proven he is not qualified."

It was hard for Ragnarok to hide his pleasure in hearing this piece of information. "Then I have another job for you, Rockstooth. Tomorrow morning, go back to that house and force the father to sign over guardianship rights for Nicholas to me."

He watched as Rockstooth widened his eyes and looked over at him in shock. "Do you think this is wise, Your Majesty? He is a wizard, after all."

"He is a true heir – a descendent of the first King, Arthur. His lineage brings together great houses; Pendragon, Emrys, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor . . . All of these houses are still known for their kindness towards our kind – wizards who treated us as equals. We have had enough rebellions, my friend. This child is one of the keys to the revolution that will change everything – the Prince that was promised."

"A king of the prophecy?"

"Indeed – one of the powers behind the chosen one. It will do well if he is raised by the Goblin Nation, at least until he reaches eleven years of age."

Rockstooth remained silent in thought for several moments before he spoke. "I can see how that is our best option but do you believe yourself to be capable of raising human child? I fear the Prince may not be able to handle the ways of goblins – humans are a lot more fragile from what I have seen of them."

Ragnarok considered his advisor's words. There was no denying that there was truth in them. Human children seemed to require a gentle approach in nurturing which was not something they could receive from goblins who were taught to duel from their fourth year from birth. "I do not intend for Nicholas to be raised completely in the ways of goblins, Rockstooth. I am sure the Union of Druids will accept our asking of help."

The Union of Druids was renowned as an ancient and exclusive magical organisation whose members were seen as the mediators and law-enforcers of the magical world. Ragnarok admired the organisation as they were among the first in the world to allow creatures other than humans, including goblins, into their esteemed halls – to be treated as equals. It was this admiration along with the desire of the young Prince having as many advantages as he could that led to Ragnarok deciding it would be extremely useful to inform Lord Commander Desmond – the current leader of the Union of Druids – of the turnabout of events in regarding Magical Britain's royal line.

"The Prince can proceed and learn at a lesser pace than our kind under Lord Desmond's tutelage," Ragnarok stated.

"From what I recall, the Lord Commander's sole responsibility is to ensure the Union remains neutral, Your Majesty. We do not yet know if he will consent to educate the Prince."

Ragnarok shook his head as he spoke. "I have heard the vows spoken by many members of the Union, my friend. The rumour that they are kept neutral under oath is only a myth. Their only loyalty is to the law," Rockstooth bowed his head in acknowledgement of his mistake while the King continued, "You are right, though – there is no guarantee that Desmond will consent but it is important the Union is at least aware of the heir. They will be essential if we hope for a chance of a smooth succession."

"And if the Lord Commander agrees? You must be aware that a passing tutor will not be able to teach the boy everything he needs to know."

The King acknowledged this. "The rest will be taught by me under this very roof. He is the Crown Prince of the Wizarding Throne, Rockstooth. I believe myself to be completely capable of educating a king."

Rockstooth's expression showed a slight sign of softening. "Yes, of course. But on a more personal level, the Prince may grow to view you as his father."

His advisor's soft-spoken words struck Ragnarok. The prophecy stated that he and the Prince would approach as kin but he had thought that they would be brothers in arms – just close allies with a common enemy. He was once again reminded of his pain.

Almost ten years prior to that day, Ragnarok had lost his lifemate and children. An accident within Gringotts had torn his companion for life and his dear daughters from him in a single blazing moment of fire. From then, Ragnarok had grieved for the loss of those he loved – never believing he could feel an agony worse than he had felt at that time.

The thought of his passed family reminded Ragnarok of the hurt that throbbed with every beat of his heart in the absence of those he loved most in the world. It was with that thought that Ragnarok then became aware of why Rockstooth mentioned being viewed as a father to the young Prince. His advisor wanted to know if the King was ready to care deeply for another child.

Taking a deep breath and letting it blow out, Ragnarok leaned across and placed a hand on the side of the young boy's face. Nicholas let out a small sigh and unconsciously leaned into the touch. Ragnarok allowed a small smile to pass his face, finally knowing the answer to Rockstooth's unspoken question. "Then his father I shall be."

Nicholas then stirred, Ragnarok's gravelly voice having disturbed him from his sleep. He moaned in displeasure and then drowsily opened his eyes to reveal bright silver orbs. It took a moment before he had turned his head so it was facing Ragnarok and then focused his eyes upon the Goblin King.

Ragnarok felt the two-year-old boy's magic flare up in his fear. Nicholas widened his eyes and attempted to jerk away from the hand that was still clutching the side of his face. Ragnarok pulled his hand away and leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands in front of him in a sign of surrender, showing Nicholas that he did not mean him any harm by giving him some space. The Goblin King then felt the magic that surrounded the boy compose itself and retreat.

The boy eventually calmed from his silent fright and relaxed his body. His widened eyes narrowed back to a normal stare. He then simply remained laid on the large bed and curiously gazed at the creature in front of him. Nicholas' eyes lingered on both of the goblins that were present in the room and he cocked his head to the left as if he was intrigued.

Nicholas lifted one of his thumbs into his mouth and began sucking on it while he raised his other arm and pointed his index finger at Ragnarok's ears. "Big," he giggled.

Ragnarok tried not to let his delight show but was pleased to know that the little boy did not seem to fear his appearance, rather he was amused by it. It was astonishing that the Prince had already surpassed Ragnarok's expectations of him, even if it was in the simplest of ways. The King conceded that surprises were only to be anticipated from raising the prophesized Prince.

His life would not be easy, this Ragnarok knew from his own experience. Nicholas would be faced with obstacles much larger than any Ragnarok had faced before and even during his reign. Ragnarok then decided to make a silent oath to himself as he reached out and clutched the giggling boy's hand that was dangerously close to pinching his long hooked nose. Nicholas would not enter the corrupted Wizarding Britain without the proper knowledge and strength he needed to rule it.

So mote it be.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

 _ **Eight Years Later,**_

 _ **12 February 1990**_

The sound of swords clanging against each other filled the air.

"To your left!"

An eleven-year-old Nicholas faced his tutor, Desmond, and blocked a blow that was heading to the left of his abdomen. He groaned as his sword – which was forged to be well balanced and nimble to account for his age – parried the sword of his master.

"Good," Desmond said with a smirk on his face.

Nicholas was panting from over-exertion and had a layer of sweat coating his light skin. Though he was exhausted, the Prince still smiled slightly at the praise given to him by the renowned swordsman.

The older man paused for a few moments to give Nicholas a chance to catch his breath before he rushed towards him again. Nicholas glanced up and quickly raised his weapon to meet the crashing of Desmond's broad blade. From the block, Desmond swiftly retreated slightly only to return with several blows that Nicholas was forced to guard himself against.

Throughout the several years that Nicholas was under Edwin Desmond's tutelage, the Lord Commander maintained that the best way to learn any kind of fighting was through example and practice. Nicholas had to admit that, though he was far from a gentle instructor when it came to sword fighting, Desmond had a style to his training that rivalled any other swordsmen that taught Nicholas during his time with the goblins.

The attack continued. Nicholas dodged the upward swing of his master by twisting himself away from its blow as the sword barely missed him. The Prince then turned back to the brown-haired wizard and decided to begin his own assault.

Nicholas was told long ago that his strength lied in his agility – the nimbleness of his feet allowed him to move rapidly whilst avoiding any kinds of attack that could harm him. He had worked out that his speed could also be used in an offensive manner if he had the right opening to strike back at his opponent.

Darting towards Desmond, Nicholas parried several more swipes of his master's sword. He bided his time, beginning to view a pattern in his fighting. The ringing of steel became louder as the blows increased in strength from the close-combat the wielders were engaged in. Nicholas eventually saw his opening when he observed Desmond's sword heading towards the side of his arm.

In the space of a second, the Prince ducked under the swing of his master's blade and then shifted so that he was facing Desmond's back. From that position, Nicholas swiftly kicked the back of Desmond's knee so he was forced to kneel. Once his master was downed, Nicholas pressed the point of his sword on the back of Desmond's neck.

"Yield," Nicholas commanded.

The grin in Desmond's voice was heard as he spoke, "I yield."

Immediately, Nicholas lowered his sword and watched as Desmond stood. The tall man sheathed his weapon and began brushing his shoulders and trousers of the dirt that had gotten on them. Desmond then regarded the young Nicholas with a look akin to pride. "You have improved immensely, Your Highness."

Nicholas had dropped onto the ground in exhaustion. "I am . . . grateful, Lord Desmond," he gasped in between short breaths.

"I was told King Ragnarok wanted to see you after this session was complete. Go on and clean up before presenting yourself," Desmond said.

Nicholas furrowed his dark eyebrows in confusion, glancing at the clock tower in the distance. "But, Desmond . . . we still have an hour left of the session. Surely we still have a little more time before I will need to leave."

Desmond chuckled. "I am thrilled you still want to continue, Sire, but I am aware that today is your birthday. It is for that reason I am allowing you early leave."

"Oh," Nicholas grinned, "I am flattered you chose to remember, my lord."

"Do not be cheeky, young prince. It does not become you." Desmond smiled warmly at the boy. He then pulled out a small box from his pocket and wandlessly enlarged it. "My wife and I would like you to have this. Eleven is a very important age to wizards, after all."

Nicholas smiled gratefully and accepted the present. "May I open it?"

"Yes!" Desmond laughed. "Or I think Lady Desmond will commit regicide."

The Prince instantly ripped through the layers of wrapping paper until he had his hands on the actual box. Pulling the lid off, Nicholas saw that he was faced with a book: 'World Renowned Piano Pieces: Volume I.'

The young boy gasped and widened his eyes, looking to Desmond in silent question who laughed again and fondly tousled the Prince's hair. "Yes, Jane will be here every Monday to teach you."

Ever since Nicholas first visited the Lord Commander Desmond's house when he was seven-years-old and heard the beautiful melodies of Jane Desmond playing the piano echoing around the warm home, he had asked and pleaded and begged to be taught by her. All the while, she had refused due to not thinking herself to be a good enough tutor for the future King. All the while the Prince himself had stubbornly refused to be taught by anyone other than her.

Nicholas was now delighted to see that Jane had been the one the yield in their conflict.

"Now," Desmond brought Nicholas out of his thoughts, "King Ragnarok still wants to see you, Your Highness."

The ebony-haired boy smiled widely and spoke. "Could you tell Lady Jane that I am eager for her lessons and she will not regret offering them to me?"

Desmond nodded, his brown eyes mirthful. "Of course."

With that, Nicholas said his farewells and rushed back to the palace. As his sword training usually occurred in the King's Gardens within the area that surrounded the palace belonging to King Ragnarok, Nicholas was easily able to bring himself back to the large home he also lived in.

Nicholas was aware that it had been eight years since the Goblin King had adopted him. Many of the details of that night were still kept from him to this day, being given the promise that he will be told what he had so wanted to know once he was older. The boy often wondered if that was for the best. All he knew of his family was that his mother was dead and whenever he asked either Ragnarok or his advisor, Rockstooth, about his father, all he received were angry looks that did not seem to be directed to him but something, or someone, very far away.

Running past the many serving goblins that were going about their daily routines around the palace, Nicholas headed straight for his rooms on the first floor.

Tearing off his shirt and trousers, throwing them into the laundry basket that Hardwell – his personal manservant – had angrily demanded that he must place his clothes, Nicholas darted into his bathroom to shower.

King Ragnarok never liked unexplainable tardiness.

After ten minutes of scrubbing off the grime and dirt gathered on his body from training with Desmond, Nicholas dressed into one of the clean tunics hung in his wardrobe as well as a pair of slacks.

Raising his hands to his wet hair, Nicholas focused the elements around him to emit a flow of hot air right through his locks with his magic, being taught to do so from Hardwell who became annoyed at always being called to dry it for the Prince. After he was finished, he hurried to his door.

Nicholas walked quickly to the King's study which was only down the hallway, took a breath to compose his breathing and then pushed the double doors open to reveal Ragnarok with Desmond who stood in front of the King's desk with his hands clutched behind his back. Both had turned their heads to the doors to see who had entered.

"Ah! There he is." Desmond beamed.

Nicholas stepped forward to stand beside Desmond and bowed his back in respect to the King – as he was taught to do. "Well met, Your Majesty."

Ragnarok growled jovially and bowed his head in return. "Well met, Your Highness. I assume that you are confused as to the presence of the Lord Commander?"

"Yes, I am," Nicholas stated and turned to address his tutor and leader of the Union of Druids. "You were meant to be making your way to Germany, were you not? I thought there was some extreme dispute from western magicals about the reunification of the East and West."

"There are still some issues but most of the threat the west was worried about had been handled yesterday. Knight Commander Mason had just informed me today that she was able to track down where most the escapees had hidden after the raid we had performed. The official reunification of Germany should be able to take place later this year."

Ragnarok spoke in curiosity. "The escapees – are they Grindelwald sympathisers?"

Nicholas too was interested in the people who were leading the western allies to believe it would be too dangerous to allow two sides of a country the chance of resolution.

"Most likely, Majesty. We shall find out from the interrogations when they are found."

"Keep me posted, Lord Desmond. There have not been any large fluctuations in the daily finances of any members of the old magical families so I do not believe these criminals are acting in a single large organisation."

Desmond considered this. "This is promising news. Nevertheless, I will still push for probing about co-conspirators – out of a need for lawful confirmation and not of any lack of belief in goblin abilities, of course."

Ragnarok snarled a laugh. "You have not offended me, Desmond. I am well aware of what your profession entails. Your presence here today though is rather less urgent but just as important. You are here as a trusted advisor." The King reached across his desk to pick up an envelope and held it up to Nicholas. "This is addressed to you; it came only this morning while you were training."

Nicholas stood still for a moment from what seemed like a sudden switch in the conversation but then took two steps forward so that he could take the letter from his guardian's hand. He looked at the front of the envelope and saw that it was indeed addressed to him and then to the back where an ancient crest carrying the symbols of a lion, eagle, badger, and snake was presented in the wax seal – which meant that it could only be one thing.

"My Hogwarts letter – it came." Nicholas was astonished.

"Indeed. Open it, little prince." Ragnarok told him amusedly.

He did so with nervous hands. This was one of the few aspects of his life that turned out to be normal and he treasured it. He unfolded the neatly written-on parchment and started to read.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY._

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Westerly,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ _. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on_ _1 September_ _. We await your owl by no later than_ _31_ _st_ _July_ _._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

The silver-eyed Prince turned the page and found the mentioned list of school supplies that were compulsory for a first year. He felt apprehension along with excitement at being accepted into the school that had been part of his fantasies for as long as he had known about it.

He was brought crashing back to Earth when he realised what Ragnarok had said before handing him his letter.

"Who is Lord Desmond meant to act as an advisor to?" he asked, trying to keep a cool mask on his face but was well aware that both men in the room knew him too well to not see through his walls.

"To you, Nicholas." This was one of the few times Ragnarok used his true name – something Nicholas did not fail to recognise. The King took a pause and then cautiously spoke. "I need you to consider everything before you make up your mind about attending or not."

"Surely there cannot be a lot that I do not already know, Ragnarok."

It was at this point that the Goblin King glanced at Nicholas wearing the most expressive look he had ever seen on the ever mighty King Ragnarok. Amongst all of the emotions that Nicholas could see, two – regret and sadness – stood out the most.

"What I am going to say next cannot leave this room. The only other person that knows is Rockstooth. The both of you will understand the need for secrecy once I tell you everything."

Desmond's face instantly hardened with professionalism. "I know it is not in your nature to play games, Your Majesty. Do you require an oath?"

"I would prefer an oath, yes." Ragnarok then pushed a piece of parchment towards him. "I had the vow written for you beforehand should you have consented to give one."

The middle-aged man read the parchment that he was given and nodded in acceptance. He then pulled his wand from his arm holster to begin his vow. "I, Lord Commander Edwin Charles Desmond, swear on my body, mind, and magic to keep all secrets disclosed to me by King Ragnarok III and only discuss them with those that are confirmed to have the knowledge that will be imparted to me. So mote it be."

Nicholas watched as a soft warm glow encompassed Desmond for a moment before fading away.

"Now, Nicholas. You will not have to make a vow but I hope you see how important it is to keep this from everyone that is not Lord Desmond, Lord Rockstooth or I."

The Prince carefully gave a nod of understanding.

Ragnarok visibly took a deep breath within the silence that struck the room. He then looked into Nicholas' young, innocent eyes and felt guilt in the information he was about to impart.

For he knew those eyes would never be the same after the Prince left this room.

"There was a prophecy made just a month before your birth . . ." he began.

Ragnarok poured all of his knowledge and theories out to the two humans in front of him and struggled to keep his emotions in check. It was not fair that Nicholas' face slowly became more fearful as Ragnarok spoke. It was not fair that the boy would need to know of the darkness in this world at such a young age. It was not fair that Ragnarok had to impart this onto Nicholas just so the boy could understand why it would not be best if he went to Hogwarts. It just was not fair.

Desmond sat thoughtfully in the seat that he had conjured for himself while Nicholas sat on his own.

"There will be another dark lord?" Desmond asked.

The Goblin King shook his head. "It is not likely. It was already established that Nicholas is the Prince of the prophecy. Further, Potter was confirmed when Lord Voldemort, a dark lord, marked him on the night of his parent's death – a misfortune that happened to fall on Halloween night or 'All Hallows' Eve' as the prophecy put it. I, myself, am the King of Goblins who was to be your kin."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes in concentration, trying to recall another part of the foretelling of the future. "What of the . . . the Lioness, was it?" Ragnarok nodded in confirmation that Nicholas had her name correct and allowed him to finish. "Do you know who she is and what does our souls being bound mean?" the Prince queried.

"No, I still do not know who she is. I must admit that she is the only mysterious figure inside the prophecy." Ragnarok then considered his next words before speaking them, "The binding of souls in the prophecy specifically describes what is called a soul-bond by wizards. This is a bond that occurs when two magical beings are recognised upon birth by the Earth Core Magic as being perfectly compatible in mind, body and magic. Thus, the deep magic of the lands binds them together so they are always led to each other and incomplete without the other. From what I have read over the years, the process of discovering the other could take as little as a few months to even decades. Nonetheless, I have faith that we will at least know who she is very soon – a young girl of powerful magic is not easy to be kept hidden."

Lord Desmond suddenly widened his eyes and whispered, "Powerful magic."

Ragnarok sat straighter in interest. "You have suspicions, Lord Desmond?"

"I have a hunch, Sire. I met a remarkable young girl five years ago – she had a great burst of accidental magic, none like I had ever seen. Her sadness began to affect the surrounding elements, she defied gravity itself and began swirling winds around herself that only got stronger as the minutes passed until I was able to calm her."

"Why was she so sad?" Nicholas asked.

Desmond's brown eyes lowered in sadness. He hesitated before saying, "She – she was abandoned in a playground by a person who should have cared deeply for her."

"She was born in the mundane world," Ragnarok stated – correctly if Desmond's nod was anything to go by. "It would make sense. The old pureblood families are too inbred to have magical ability past the bare minimum. Fresh blood has the most power."

Desmond hummed in agreement. "I have been keeping an eye on her at a distance. She is due to get her own Hogwarts letter in September if I recall correctly, but I think I will push for the Druid Institute to send her our own offer on my own personal recommendation."

Nicholas considered the words that were being spoken in front of him. "She could be in Hogwarts with me?" he whispered sadly.

Ragnarok stepped off of his desk and moved around to stand in front of Nicholas, reaching to hold one of the boy's hands. "Apparently so, little prince. Yet, I think you have realised why you are likely to not be going to Hogwarts."

"I am the Prince destined to be King in the prophecy – Hogwarts cannot teach me to be King," Nicholas said, almost diplomatically, his silver eyes shining.

Ragnarok squeezed his hand like he always did when comforting the Prince.

Desmond chose to speak at that moment. "There are many reasons why you should or shouldn't go, Your Highness. You have, however, understood the major reason why you should not. Hogwarts is plagued with texts and instructors with extreme bias which is not something I can recommend for someone who is supposed be the country's head of government. Simply said, Hogwarts would only be a waste of valuable time you can have to truly prepare."

The Prince let a tear fall on his pale cheek. "So I am to just wait until the dark lord comes back?"

"Yes," Ragnarok grumbled in anger and grief for the boy's loss of innocence.

Nicholas bent his head down in submission to his fate.

The years that followed would be the longest Nicholas had ever known.

Time that was instantly forgotten once his eyes finally fell upon hers.

* * *

 **A/N: The stage is set!** **It was a large starting chapter, I know, but it _is_ focused on an OC - he needs some sort of background before this story properly begins. Nearly 10 years in 9540 words is pretty good - considering the time span. **

**I'm going to clarify for the sake of you hardcore Harmony shippers who are hungry for just another soul bond story, this is not Harry/Hermione. Harry will be a main character, definitely, but his involvement with Hermione will be of the extremely strong friendship/sibling kind. I hope you'll still give this story a chance, though.**

 **\- Guardian.**


	2. The Visits

**CHAPTER I – THE VISITS**

Hermione received an offer every year, without fail.

The amount of declines she had sent to them with varying excuses to avoid them held no bearing. They continued to send her the same invitation: an induction for an institution for the brightest minds the world has to offer – a presentation showcasing a prestigious school located in the ancient capital of Italy – generously giving a chance for young magical beings of all kinds to be a part of something much bigger than their own countries.

It was no surprise Hermione was thrilled to receive such a summons, humbly honoured to be considered worthy of such privilege. With every year that passed, the harder it became for Hermione to quill her rejection to the representatives of the institution – this mostly being due to their seemingly increasing desire to have her attend their school.

They had begun with little offers in their annual correspondences to her – motions that steadily increased as the years flew. The last offer, the one that had arrived in the summer before her fourth-year at Hogwarts, Hermione was given the chance to attend the institution under a full scholarship, wherein all of her needs would have been taken care of under the school funds.

Unsure of the reason why they wanted her to attend so badly, Hermione remained stubborn in her decision of not attending. This was initially because she did not want her dear parents to go through the hassle of moving countries when there was a better option that did not require much travelling for her and practically none for her mum and dad.

This reason was shot out of the window the instant a representative for the Druid Institute introduced her to portkey and floo-travel back in second-year.

Nevertheless, that was also the year that Hermione had developed solid relationships with her friends at Hogwarts. They had become just another justification for her refusing to go to the Druid Institute.

One of her best friends, Harry Potter, always seemed to find himself stuck in situations where he was in mortal danger – every single year. Hermione did not know what it was about his normally quiet and somewhat shy nature that attracted trouble but all she was truly aware of was the fact that she would have to be out of her mind to even consider abandoning him – especially now that he needed as many supporters as possible.

At the end of last year, Harry had witnessed the return of Lord Voldemort and Hermione was left terrified. Any doubts in her mind about how bad the war that took Harry's parents away from him actually was were quashed the moment Cedric Diggory's dead body thudded onto the ground outside of the Triwizard Maze.

Fright did not take long to give way to anger, though. Hermione realised that she had lost a large amount of faith in the Ministry and most of those who worked there when she had begun reading the slanders against her best friend in the Daily Prophet.

Throughout the last month or so, the Minister and those who worked under him had started what seemed to be a campaign to defame Harry and Dumbledore – the two people who were most vehement about the return of the dark lord. Disgusting articles claiming Harry to be an 'attention-seeker' and Dumbledore as a 'senile old man' littered the bigoted newspaper ever since the last task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Hermione could not even begin to wonder why it was so hard for the Ministry to believe Lord Voldemort had come back. All she understood was that now that he was, their denial of the fact would become their downfall – unless there was a way to prove Harry's words.

A drawling voice pulled Hermione from her thoughts, "If you don't stop that right now, I fear I may develop a headache."

Daphne Greengrass was sat on the floor of Hermione's bedroom with a number of books and parchment laid around her – her quill scratching against the piece of summer homework she was currently working on. "I can't do my work when I can feel you thinking," she complained.

Hermione laughed sheepishly as she teased, "Have you forgotten that homework usually requires thought, darling?"

The blonde girl across from her raised one delicate eyebrow. "You're not doing your homework," Daphne reached forward and snatched the parchment that was in front of Hermione, nearly spilling the ink pot that was placed over it as a paperweight in the process. Amongst Hermione's protests, Daphne quickly glanced at the page and returned it. "If you were, you'd have written a new sentence in the last ten minutes . . . darling."

Hermione sighed at being caught out.

"What's bothering you?" Daphne asked, trying to feign a casual curiosity by continuing to look down at her parchment but the crease between her eyebrows gave an indication to her concern.

It was no longer a wonder to Hermione how she and Daphne had become such good friends. It did take some time, about a year, but their companionship was built upon the understanding of their individual mannerisms. Their friendship was natural in a way that astounded Hermione as she could never have imagined the most intelligent and comforting female friend she had would be a Slytherin. What Hermione had in common with Daphne were often what she would have expected in a Ravenclaw, and they often joked about how they could have been roommates had the Sorting Hat put them both into the houses that everyone believed they belonged in.

Hermione recalled how often she used to go to the library and research the Chamber of Secrets back in second-year. It was here that she had met Daphne – away from the rivalry of their respective houses – and got to know her as the girl whom she shared most with.

Back then, Daphne had been more emotionally closed off but, by the end of the year when Hermione had returned from being petrified in the hospital wing, Daphne had let her walls down slightly to tell Hermione she was an idiot, also informing Hermione she had much work to catch up on and offering to help her do so, which Hermione accepted as a gesture of her being missed by the Slytherin.

Hermione smiled in amusement as she answered, "What do you know about the Union of Druids?"

Daphne placed down her quill and thought for a moment before saying, "My father's told me about them. He said that they were the ones responsible for the Statute of Secrecy being instated worldwide – keeping the peace between us and the muggles."

The brunette nodded. "I remember reading about that. Quite some time ago a lot of countries had different opinions on whether or not magic should be revealed to the rest of the world so the Druids sought to end the fights before an international magical war broke out. They performed experiments on muggles, simply proving the existence of magic and recording their reactions – which were mostly negative – and then obliviating them right after. A meeting was then set up by the Druids where representatives from each country attended and were presented with the research."

Daphne hummed and continued for Hermione, "The Druids then showed their ideas for the Statute and the countries banded together, agreeing that magic was better left a secret from the muggles. From then on, the Union of Druids became known as the founders of the International Confederation. Anyways, why ask about them?"

Hermione glanced up at Daphne for a moment before she looked down at her own parchment once again, bluntly answering, "The school they run has been offering me places every year."

Daphne widened her eyes. " _What!_ " she shrieked, "You – you've been getting offers from the Druid Institution – _every year_?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, a look of concern from the way Daphne had reacted coating her face.

"Don't get me wrong, Hermione, that's wonderful!" Daphne's smile was genuine as she said her words. Hermione regarded her best friend's blue eyes and saw them shining joyously in response to the news she had given. A long time ago, Hermione would have been surprised by the look on Daphne's face. Now, though, she knew Daphne did not follow the Slytherin stereotype of being, frankly, evil.

The girls supported each other whenever possible. Whether it was in third-year when Hermione, Harry, and Ron had fallen out – leaving Daphne to comfort her and tell her she was right to do what she did. Or when Daphne had been given an ultimatum by her parents to decide on a betrothal before she was seventeen or be disowned entirely – leaving her to run straight to Hermione's home and sob into her shoulder the very second the girl opened the door.

Daphne continued, blue eyes searching brown, "But you do know that this is the most prestigious magical school in the world right? That every magical person dreams of going there?"

"I know," Hermione replied simply.

Instantly, Daphne's appearance transformed in outrage. Her beautiful face twisted in irritation with the girl in front of her. The blonde quickly leaned across and smacked Hermione upside the head and yelled, "Why the hell are you still at Hogwarts then, you idiot?"

Hermione groaned in pain as she rubbed the back of her head where she was hit.

Daphne remained brutal, "This isn't something to big up your pride, Hermione. This is a chance of a lifetime and you, apparently, keep passing it up like its nothing!"

"I have a very good reason why I'm not accepting, Daphne," Hermione mumbled grumpily.

Daphne sat back in her place behind her work and scrutinised Hermione, trying to think of the reason the studious girl could refuse the opportunities the Druid Institute almost guaranteed to give her. It did not take long for Daphne to figure it out.

There were many aspects of Hermione Jean Granger that Daphne respected – amongst the little few things that Daphne inevitably did not like as much. Her intelligence went undisputed in Daphne's mind – mostly due to Daphne always being beaten by her in terms of their class grades and the way she won most of the debates they had because of the way she used her knowledge to come up with logical arguments, swinging the discussion to her favour nearly every time.

Other qualities such as Hermione's bravery and loyalty were also no-brainers for Daphne. Courage was not something she had been surprised to see in someone from the Gryffindor House – neither was loyalty if she really thought about it – but Hermione gave the Slytherin girl a whole new meaning to both of those words.

Daphne could never understand why Hermione had continued to insist upon meeting in the library as they usually did every other day while they were at Hogwarts, even after she had been forgiven by her friends and no longer needed Daphne to give her company. Even through the rising tensions between both of their rival houses, and through the ongoing threat of losing her best friends – notorious for their flat-out feud with some members of the Slytherin house – on grounds of betrayal. Hermione refused to budge even when Daphne had told her she would understand.

It was only past that point that Daphne had become truthful to herself. Hermione was her best friend – no doubt about it. She was the only one who really knew who Daphne was, the only one with whom Daphne could be truly honest and open with. Daphne had let the last of her walls fall down in front of Hermione who did not even flinch as she saw every single nook and cranny of the ice-queen of Slytherin. Hermione remained firm as Daphne spoke of her childhood as a pureblood – of how she had, at one point, wished she had no parents if that had meant she could be free of their traditional pureblood views and the lack of love they shared with her or her sister.

Daphne's resolve was shattered and she had cried for the years of facades she had to carry out with her mother and father, pretending to be a loving daughter with doting parents – the perfect pure-blooded family. She had been further saddened by the fact that her own house, people she should have been able to be open with, would turn on her in a second if Daphne ever let slip the true nature of the Greengrass family. They would make her the front of all pure-blood gossip – which, to Daphne's parents, simply would not do.

It was in third-year that, for the first time in her life, Daphne felt true emotions. Hermione had listened to everything Daphne had told her about her home life in silence, watching as reserved tears fell down the cheeks of the blonde girl, and had carefully walked around the large table they usually sat on in the library to sit right next to her. Hermione first held her hand and then, once Daphne had glanced up at her, leaned across to hold her in the very first genuine embrace she could ever remember being held in.

She was invited over to the Granger's for the summer holidays that followed, where she had experienced what a family that loved each other was like. It was at that time that Hermione had also opened up about her own life and revealed the sadness that she hid so well, from what had happened in her past.

In short, Hermione's friendship was a treasure – her loyalty unwavering.

Daphne finally spoke, "It's Potter, isn't it? You feel like you can't leave him."

Brown eyes seemed shocked but it took a moment for Hermione to gather herself before she shook her head and gave Daphne a significant look, "It's not just Harry," and after a few beats, she asked, "How did you know?"

"You're easy to read, Gryffindor." Daphne grinned.

Hermione let out a small laugh and said, "Or perhaps you know me too well, Slytherin."

"That too," Daphne smirked, "What's going on with Potter then? Have you heard from him?"

Hermione rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "No. Dumbledore didn't want me or Ron contacting Harry."

Daphne gave Hermione a look as though she said something strange. "He wants Potter to be alone right after he saw someone die?"

Hermione hummed in agreement. "I know. I wrote Harry twice anyway, but neither letter got a reply. I don't think Harry feels up to writing after what happened."

The blonde across from her rolled her eyes. "Or the letters were intercepted. Do you really think Dumbledore would tell you to not write and not have any precautions in place?"

"That could also be a possibility," Hermione admitted. She leaned back onto her hands from where she still sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor and considered whether Dumbledore could go so far to keep Harry isolated, not being able to think of a single reason he could have for doing so.

The girls were startled from the sudden pecking that came from the window. Looking over, they saw that a brown owl with a letter wrapped on one of its legs was trying rather hard to get inside. Hermione stood and stepped over to the window, pulling on the latch and sliding it upwards. The owl instantly flew into the room and landed on the perch Hermione had put up for Harry's owl, Hedwig, who usually got quite exhausted after the flight she took to Hermione's home.

"From Potter?" Daphne asked.

Hermione opened up her desk drawer and pulled out some owl treats from inside. "No, I think it's from the Druids – I hadn't received this year's offer yet."

Daphne raised an eyebrow and smiled in amusement. "This year's offer? A bit cocky aren't we?"

Hermione scowled. "Shut up. You know what I meant."

She pulled the letter off of the owl's leg and offered it the treats. Daphne laughed while Hermione walked over to her side and sat down next to her, unrolling the parchment as she sat.

The familiar sigil of a phoenix and a unicorn within a ring of twisting vines greeted Hermione as she began to read.

 _Dear Miss. Granger,_

 _It is to my knowledge that you have been rejecting many of the proposals that the Druid Institute have been making to you. As the Headmaster of the Institution and also the Lord Commander of the Union of Druids, I am personally writing to you to enlighten you of the many opportunities we can offer._

 _As you are most probably aware, we are a large order that has become one of the main defences against world war. This reputation does not go without its advantages._

 _To any student that graces that our halls, we offer a range of courses from which you will be permitted to pick eleven (though the compulsory core subjects that you are now studying at Hogwarts will have to become seven of those you will be taking should you transfer) After your studies, we will be able to aid you into any line of work of your choosing through the many connections we have kept in our centuries of world affairs. However, this is only what we usually offer all of our students._

 _We, as an organization, believe that you are capable of many great things, Miss. Granger. Your remarkable talents in knowledgeability, as well as your practical skills in magic, have been two of the many reasons the Union has been keeping track of you. We want to give you a much larger proposition._

 _Due to your firm decision to not attend the Druid Institute – which we shall reluctantly accept after this year – I offer you a place as Knight Commander on the Druid Union itself. You shall receive a formal job offer in your final year at Hogwarts._

 _I cannot stress to you how rarely we believe anyone to deserve such an honour, Miss. Granger. Yet, I assure you that it is not given to you with any hint of regret – it had meant to be given to you once you had graduated from our own school anyway._

 _I hope to be working alongside you one day._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Edwin Desmond_

 _(Lord Commander of the Union of Druids, Headmaster of the Druid Institution)_

"Well, trust you to have your future sorted when you haven't even done your OWL's." Daphne joked.

Hermione could not come up with a clever reply, the shock of receiving such a proposition had not worn off just yet.

The Lord Commander did not need to specify what an honour it was to receive a place of work within the Union of Druids, Hermione knew it as soon as she read it. To think that the most esteemed magic-based organisation in the world believed her to be worthy gave Hermione a surge of pride and fear she had never felt before.

It was with the thought of it being the best job offer she would ever receive that Hermione decided that she would not let it go to waste. She _will_ be a Knight of the Druid Union once she graduated from Hogwarts.

The sudden light slap on her face from Daphne brought Hermione out from her reverie.

"Do you really have to be this violent?" Hermione asked, her eyes twinkled with happiness and a hope for the future.

"I don't know. I learned it from you." Daphne said pointedly.

Hermione placed a clean parchment in front of herself and reached for Daphne's quill, beginning to pen a reply to Lord Commander Desmond. "I never knew Slytherins were capable of picking up bad habits," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Watch it, you."

 **-o0o0o0o-**

A few days had passed and Daphne had gone back to her home after she spent a week with the Grangers, neglecting to tell her parents which friend's house she was staying in – not that they had noticed.

Hermione had been thinking about what Daphne had claimed about Dumbledore intercepting Harry's letters. It was very plausible as Hermione knew that Harry was not the kind of person to completely ignore letters from his friends, especially when living with those horrid relatives of his – but now Hermione was left with the dilemma of how to contact Harry.

She had instantly come up with an idea but was hesitant to carry it out as Dumbledore would probably find out about what she did and berate her for not following his direct orders. Hermione soon realised that she was too worried for her best friend's mental welfare to listen to an old man who had not even given any reason for Harry's isolation.

With these thoughts, Hermione had gotten up the next day, had breakfast, and told her parents she would probably be back sometime in the evening – ignoring their teasing remarks about making sure to not become pregnant too young like her mother.

As she stepped on the edge of the curb, Hermione stuck her wand out to call for the Knight Bus. She did not expect it to be a pleasant journey, due to the bus being known for its rocky nature, but considered it would be worth the speed it took to get to her destination – compared to a normal muggle bus. Hermione and Daphne had used the method of transportation quite often in the last two summers they had spent together.

It took about a minute before Hermione heard the raucous approach of the bus. The purple triple-decker nearly crashed into several of the cars that were parked on the side of the road before it stopped right in front of her.

Stanley Shunpike, the conductor of the Knight Bus, looked pleased to see her. "'Ermione! Nice seein' ya again." he grinned with crooked teeth, his cockney accent as thick as ever.

"Hello, Stan." Hermione smiled pleasantly. "What are you doing here? I thought you only work nights."

The conductor rolled his eyes as he motioned for Hermione to step in. "I do but Jamie got sick, di'nt he? I had to take over for 'im. Where are ya headed?"

"Surrey, please. Privet Drive if you can." Hermione replied.

Stan looked to be doing calculations in his head. "That'll be thirteen sickles."

Hermione pulled open her shoulder bag and took out her coin purse. She counted out thirteen sickles before handing them to the conductor who gladly accepted them.

"Take a seat, 'ermione. Don't need ya bumpin' your head like last time." he laughed, "Take it away, Ern!"

Hermione barely had time to make herself somewhat comfortable in her seat before her head was jerked hard to the side and the bus began to twist and turn around the streets of London.

Fifteen minutes and several spells of nausea later, Stan announced their arrival. "Here we go – Privet Drive, Surrey."

Hermione shook her head to gain her bearings before standing up on shaky legs. "Thank you, Stan. I'll probably be calling again to get back home."

"Just stick ya wand out when you need us." Stan tipped his hat at her as she stepped off. The moment she stepped off, the bus quickly rushed off to its next destination.

The brunette finally had the chance to look around at the street Harry lived on. She observed the silent road and the lack of children playing out in the summer sun and came to the conclusion that this might just have been the dullest street in England. Looking at the house that was directly behind where she was dropped off at the curb, Hermione saw that she was at 18 Privet Drive.

She began to walk down the street, taking care to keep track of the house numbers as she passed them but thankfully, she had begun to notice a familiar head of unruly black hair in the distance.

Quickening her pace in gladness to see her friend, Hermione reached 4 Privet Drive within thirty seconds of spotting Harry. As she had not announced herself yet, Hermione was able to see that Harry seemed to be doing some gardening – chores from the Dursley's most likely – and was trimming the bushes to the side of the front garden. He was faced away from her so he had not spotted her yet.

He appeared to be having some trouble with one particular branch which refused to be clipped off. In his insistence to get it, Harry had cut his elbow on one of the thorns in the rose bush right beside him.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled.

Hermione could not hold back her amusement any longer as she snickered – to his surprise.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed in shock.

"Would you like some help with that?" Hermione grinned and pointedly looked at the branch that he still was not able to get.

"Wha – how – what are you doing here?" he asked while placing down the clippers in his hand, taking off his gloves, and walking to the front gate where Hermione was currently stood.

"I came to see you, of course." Hermione rolled her eyes and hugged him.

Harry's astonishment soon gave way to slight irritation. "You and Ron didn't reply to my letters." his eyes narrowed and he stepped away from the embrace.

Hermione gave her best male friend a look of apology. If Harry had written her and Ron letters that they did not receive and Harry had most obviously not received her letters, they were definitely intercepted. "I should have come earlier but I didn't know if it was true. I didn't get any letters you sent me, Harry. I think they, and the ones I sent you, were intercepted."

"You sent me letters? Intercepted – who would do that?" Harry asked suspiciously with a disbelieving tone in his voice that irked Hermione but she knew better than to start a row in front of the house where Harry's relatives resided.

"Dumbledore told me and Ron not to contact you over the summer," when Harry looked ready to interrupt, Hermione raised a hand to stop him and carried on speaking, "I don't know why he asked us to do that but I sent you two letters, both of which I'm guessing you didn't receive."

Harry shook his head in answer, looking more confused as the seconds ticked by.

"Dumbledore's most likely been the one intercepting owls so you're kept in the dark about everything that's going on – the point of which, I do not understand so I didn't agree with and now I'm here." Hermione spread her arms out and smiled.

After a moment Harry's suspicion melted from his face. "What's been going on in the magical world then?" he enquired as he motioned for Hermione to sit down on the porch before putting his gloves back on to finish his chores.

Hermione sat on the porch steps and looked around. "Wait – won't the Dursley's start a witch hunt if they saw me here?" The amount of stories Harry had told her and Ron were always large indications of how much his 'family' hated wizardry.

"Nah – Uncle Vernon's working and Aunt Petunia went to her friend's house. Dudley's probably at the park with his gang and won't be back till late." Harry shrugged.

Hermione nodded in understanding. "Well then, where to start? Have you been reading any of the Daily Prophet lately?"

"Yeah, a bit. Nothing about Voldemort, though. I'm guessing Fudge is still denying it."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Denying is a soft word when it comes from the Ministry, Harry. Do you know what the Prophet's been saying about you and Dumbledore?"

Harry shook his head. "I've only skimmed the headlines looking for Voldemort's name."

She sighed. "The Prophet has been claiming that you both have been lying about the dark lord's return."

The black haired boy rose up in fury, shouting, "But it's true, Hermione! You know it's true! I saw him come back, I saw him kill –" he hesitated, though his emerald eyes were still lit with anger.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Calm down. They don't have the evidence, Harry. Without that, they're free to believe anything they want to believe."

He narrowed his eyes. "You sound like you're on their side," he said harshly.

"For Merlin's sake!" Hermione was becoming irritated, "Is that why I disregarded Dumbledore's orders and came here? Is that why I'm the only one that's letting you know about all of this? I'll gladly leave right now if you actually believe what you just said, Harry." she hissed.

Harry took a deep calming breath before he fully turned back from the bushes to face Hermione. "I'm sorry, 'Mione," he ran a hand through his hair, "It's just been frustrating, okay."

Hermione blew out a breath of air. "It's alright. I know you've been through a lot and the truth is I know most of it isn't something I can ever fully understand no matter how much I try, but do remember there's no other side I could be on except yours."

He nodded sincerely. "I know – thank you." Harry paused for a moment before asking, "How can we prove that Voldemort's back, though?"

"I honestly don't have a clue. I imagine Dumbledore's got some sort of grand plan that he's been keeping from all of us," she remarked.

"You reckon?" Harry said hopefully.

Hermione shrugged unsurely. "I can't be sure but he knows that He-Who- . . . Voldemort – can't be stopped without the Ministry."

Harry felt a surge of pride go through him at hearing his best friend say the name of the dark lord out loud. "We just wait for Dumbledore then?"

"We'll have to. There isn't much else we can do."

Hermione stayed on the porch for an hour before Harry finished up his chores. She had taken him up on his offer to go on a walk and so they had spent the next three hours traipsing around the town talking about anything and everything until they had finally sat down on the swings in the local park.

There was a look of confusion on Harry's face when she had decided to tell him about the offers she had been receiving from the Union of Druids – omitting the truth about why she had been refusing them. Hermione had to spend about thirty minutes explaining what the Druids were to Harry before he was fully able to comprehend what she had been gifted with.

"But – Hermione, that's amazing!" he said, a look of genuine happiness for her showing in his face – unknowingly echoing the one from Daphne last week.

Hermione laughed joyously. "I know," she breathed, "I just – I don't understand why they would be so . . . _eager_ to have me there."

"Your brilliant, that's why!" Harry declared, loudly. He shook his head at her as he laughed. "You need to stop being so sceptical, Hermione. The Druids would be lucky to have you."

"You didn't even know who they were until I told you." Hermione snorted, kicking her feet slightly to sway back and forth on her swing.

Harry waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "That doesn't matter. Any place that employs you would be lucky, no matter who they are."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks for saying that, Harry. It's the same for you, you know."

"Only because of this," Harry pushed his bangs aside and indicated his scar, "if this wasn't there, no one would care."

The brunette girl stopped her movements on the swing. "You know that's not true. You're talented, Harry," she rolled her eyes when Harry shot her a look of disbelief, "Do I need to remind you of who can do a corporeal Patronus between the both of us?"

Harry objected, "One charm, Hermione! That's one charm."

"A charm that most people that have actually graduated from Hogwarts can't even manage to do. Besides, you've also faced Voldemort three times now – and survived. You've already got more experience than most wizards would get in their whole lifespan."

Harry regarded Hermione with shock from the passion in her voice.

"Your scar has nothing to do with what you've survived after the night you got it." she said, confidently.

A few moments passed before Harry decided to say, "I don't think I've ever told you how glad I am that you're my friend, Hermione."

Her attention quickly turned to the boy next to her as she gave him a look of bewilderment. "What's brought this on?"

He smiled sheepishly and said, "I've never thanked you, is all."

Hermione shook her head in amusement, "You don't need to."

"Of course I do. You've stuck by me through everything," Harry said and stopped Hermione from interrupting as he knew what she would try to say, "What happened in third-year was just because I was too wrapped up in myself to see you were trying to make sure I safe – and I was the one that decided not to talk to you for that time."

"I wasn't fair, Harry. I should have told you before going to McGonagall." Hermione insisted.

"Maybe you should have," Harry allowed, "I've thought about it, though. That whole situation only happened because we assumed things about each other. I hope that now you won't go behind my back like that again. You can trust that I'll at least try and understand your reasoning, Hermione."

She was struck by the sincerity in Harry's voice. Hermione had always regretted what happened in third-year. It was true that she had assumed Harry would not have been willing to give up his Firebolt for inspection – that is why she had gone straight to McGonagall before he had the chance to fly on the broom.

Reaching into the bag she had placed by the side of the swing she was still on, she took out two bottles of water which she had bought in one of the corner shops herself and Harry had passed on the way to the park. Hermione offered one bottle to Harry who, probably being parched from the summer heat, accepted it gratefully while she uncapped her own.

Hermione finally spoke, lifting her bottle up to Harry in a toast, "To trust then."

Harry raised his own bottle and tapped it to hers, giving a single nod. "Trust."

 **-o0o0o0o-**

A thousand miles away, the now sixteen-year-old Prince Nicholas paced back and forth in frustration.

"How can I know he is trustworthy of this information, Ragnarok?" he asked.

Ragnarok snarled, "Dumbledore is not trustworthy in the slightest. He is necessary if we want to reach Potter, however. The only way we can do that is to let him know we are important in the coming war."

Edwin Desmond spoke from his place in the corner. "I have already arranged a meeting with the Order of the Phoenix next week. The International Confederation of Wizards are currently debating Dumbledore's dismissal and I am to inform him of their verdict. You can accompany me under the pretence of being my apprentice, Your Highness," he suggested.

Nicholas took a deep breath. "I would appreciate that, Lord Desmond. Nevertheless, I would not like Dumbledore to believe I am reliant on him for any kind of political favour."

"You are not required to inform him of all of your plans, Nicholas," Ragnarok said meaningfully.

He nodded. "I concur, he does not need to know everything," Nicholas narrowed his eyes in contemplation, "We know that our prophecy will most likely loosen his tongue about the wizarding prophecy made about Potter but that would mean letting him know that there is an heir to the wizarding throne – and from what I have heard about his intellect, he will not take long before finding out that I am the Prince. We will have to adjust our plans to accommodate for that problem."

"That will not be too hard, Your Highness," Desmond said, assuredly.

"What of –" The Prince hesitated, "Have you gotten a response from Miss. Granger."

As the years flew and Nicholas grew older, he had become more aware of what having a soul mate entailed. Lord Commander Desmond and Lady Jane Desmond had sat him down only two years ago and had informed him of the different feelings he may begin to have as he aged, all of which made him grow quite embarrassed but he had understood completely why they had felt it was their responsibility.

King Ragnarok – although a caring father figure for Nicholas – was not biologically capable of understanding why the Prince would need a few hours alone to slump moodily into his bed and grumble about his awful life. The Desmond's were the only people who were human and close enough to the Prince for him to not run away from the revelations he would be given by them.

When he was told of the depths in which relationships could be taken to and of the implications that these depths were substantially more significant when a soul bond came into the question, Nicholas was understandably horrified. The Lord Commander – after figuring out that Nicholas felt fear for his soul mate – had to very quickly state that from what the Druids were able to research, the bond would not force either party to carry out acts that they did not consent to.

Over the following years, Desmond often gave Nicholas updates about the girl he had believed to be the Lioness of the prophecy. Hermione Granger had been performing extremely well academically – her power was something that was not ignored by even Dumbledore who had written to the Druid Institute, claiming her to be a 'very powerful witch with great ability,' commending her as a wonderful student to have in any schooling environment.

Ragnarok had, however, remained to be a steady force of reasoning. He had maintained that Granger was not yet confirmed as the Lioness. It was with this logic that Nicholas had tried to remain detached from her name or any feelings that came along with the thought of her.

That being said, Nicholas's heart subconsciously began to beat faster and a concealed piece of his soul shivered in delight from mentioning her whole. The piece had intimately spent the first years of her existence slumbering within the boy, merging herself with him and learning everything she could, and becoming familiar with the warmth of his soul that embraced her so well. Now, she had awoken and she knew that the time was coming closer in which she would be reunited with her mortal.

Desmond grinned as he always did when Nicholas mentioned the girl. "She indeed did reply," he said as he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a single folded piece of parchment, offering it to Nicholas.

The Prince accepted the letter with a level of control he did not believe he was able to achieve when he could see Desmond exchanging knowing looks with Ragnarok in the corner of his eye.

Unfolding the parchment, Nicholas was greeted by immaculate cursive writing. He had turned away from the two others in the room and read the letter through. "She has accepted to compromise and join the Union after graduation," he stated as he turned back to his advisors.

Desmond hummed in amusement. "Many of us were just thankful that she had finally agreed to something. We were beginning to think Granger was too stubborn to accept anything."

Ragnarok abruptly spread his mouth in a mischievous smile that showed all of his razor-like teeth. "Caressing the parchment will not bring the girl any closer, Your Highness."

Nicholas was suddenly aware that he was indeed unintentionally stroking the letter with his thumb and flushed a bright red among the laughs of the men in front of him.

The sixteen years that the foreign piece in his soul had lived without her Other had been lonely, no matter the warmth and love she felt inside of his, her soul mate's, heart. She reached out to anything that belonged to her human with an utmost desperation and felt sorrow and hope along with a sense of belonging like no other.

Soon the connection would be solidified – her assignment would be complete – and she would be able to go home.

* * *

 **A/N: That's the first chapter! Thank you to those of you that reviewed, your positive feedback was very welcome :) I also appreciate you pitching in your ideas for what you want to see in this story.**

 **Hermione's background is something I really want to emphasise on in the course of this tale. She wasn't given much of a past in Canon - understandable as the focuses of the HP books were on the wizarding world and Harry Potter's involvement in it - but here, I want you to know my Hermione's heartbreak. I want you to know what drives her to drink up as much knowledge as she can. I want her to be more than just Harry's sidekick.**

 **Hopefully, I'll be able to do her justice.**

 **Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas;** **may your woes fade with the rising sun of Christmas Day, and may the most broken of you find the strength to mend in the New Year.**

 **-Guardian**


	3. The Meetings

**CHAPTER II – THE MEETINGS**

A full week had passed and Hermione was reeling from the many events that had taken place.

After the visit with Harry, Hermione had returned home. She spent a few days in complete relaxation with her parents before she had received an owl from Dumbledore. Reasonably, Hermione had panicked upon seeing, from the signature, that the letter was from the Headmaster – fearing he had written to scold her about what she had done.

When she had worked up the courage to read the letter, Dumbledore had simply invited to a secure location where she was told the Weasley family were also staying. Following Dumbledore's letter was a letter from Ron telling her to 'rescue' him from Ginny's incessant love-sick mutterings about Harry and his brothers Fred and George who were constantly showing off their new apparating skills.

Hermione was initially reluctant to leave her parents, having missed them so much for the past year she had mostly spent away from them, but she had soon given in when news of Harry's situation had reached her through the headlines of the Daily Prophet.

There were many different levels of low the Ministry had reached in the time Hermione had known about them and it was blatantly obvious they were trying to beat their record with the developments that had taken place. The simple matter of underage use of magic, apparently, now warranted the sentence of wand-snapping as well as expulsion from Hogwarts – two of the heaviest sentences, just below death, the Ministry could give out. No doubt, Hermione was fuming. The only reason they were being so harsh with Harry was because they needed him out of the picture to keep their 'Voldemort is not back' message intact.

The blatant corruption within the Ministry caused Hermione to shake her head. Did they actually believe they could get away with this? She had found out from Ron that Dumbledore had been trying to get through to the Ministry to get everything sorted out – clearly to no ends just yet.

One could only hope the Ministry sees sense before they created permanent damage.

Hermione currently found herself inside the home belonging to Harry's godfather. A woman who went by the name of 'Tonks' – because she hated her first name – had picked Hermione from her home. She had given Hermione a parchment with an address written on it, letting the girl know the house was under the Fidellius Charm, and had used side-along apparition to arrive at 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius Black had greeted Hermione by the door joyously, amusing her as she remarked, while watching him bounce up and down excitedly, how much like his Animagus form the man actually was.

After the initial greetings, Sirius had stepped back to welcome and show her around his magically-expanded home. The house was rather dusty and Hermione could see how it had been in Sirius' family for generations. Old paintings and antique vases littered Grimmauld Place, directly contrasting the person who owned them, as where the house was dark and gloomy, most people would say Sirius was light and energetic. When Hermione had stated this observation to him, he had laughed and told her this was only a temporary set-up so he could be closer to Harry along with the Order Dumbledore had established to defy Voldemort.

That was another revelation that Hermione was previously unaware of. Sirius had pulled her aside when she had questioned why there were so many people making their way into and out of the house regularly. He had replied with something Hermione was not surprised about – since she had mostly expected it. When he told her his house was serving as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione was mainly shocked about being invited to live there for the remainder of the summer holidays.

Sirius had informed her most of the members of the Order were individuals who had been on the front-lines during the first war against Voldemort. For the past day, Hermione had watched, with the Weasley children, as people gathered in regular intervals in the dining room. For the duration of this time, the doors of the dining room would be shut and silencing charms would be placed, until the meeting was over and the members soon dispersed back into their usual daily routines – most of them heading back to their workplaces within the various levels of the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione's curiosity piqued as she wondered what was being discussed inside the room. Upon attempting to ask Sirius, he had simply told her he could not say and smoothly changed the subject. Hermione was no simpleton, she knew they were probably debating Voldemort's movements and discussing Harry's current situation, but it irked her to know she had to be seventeen years of age to be an active part of the Order – or any part at all, for that matter.

Earlier this morning, Hermione had heard some members volunteering to collect Harry from his house in Surrey. They had, since then, left to go get the boy and bring him back to Grimmauld Place. Hermione looked forward to seeing her often-troubled best friend and had been happy to see her excitement had spread to the other Weasley children too. Ron especially seemed to be relieved at Harry's coming arrival.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had all congregated in Ron's room where they heard a sudden calm commotion stirring downstairs – the tell-tale signs of Dumbledore entering the building with his usual entourage of other members of the Order. The trio rushed out of the bedroom to the banister at the top of the stairs, Fred and George following only seconds after the younger teenagers. Due to not being Order members, Fred and George not being permitted by their mother despite their age, they had all got used to the fact that all they would ever know about the Order meetings would be what was being discussed outside of the dining room as well as the people who were discussing the subjects before they entered.

This time was a little different, Hermione had been able to observe. Everyone seemed to be quite antsy around Dumbledore – almost like they were waiting for an angry outburst from the old man. An almost complete lack of discussions occurring made Hermione ponder on why they all looked so serious.

No one at the banister had spoken so far – despite this, Dumbledore had briefly paused at the bottom of the stairs and lifted his head up to look at the children trying to eavesdrop on any conversations they could. His eyes momentarily locked onto Hermione's and she was surprised to see a slight smile grow on the Headmaster's features, oddly proud in its nature.

Hermione had no time to wonder at this as the front door opened and her attention turned to the additional people entering. Tonks stumbled inside clumsily followed by a disapproving Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, and arguably the most anticipated, Harry Potter. They were all carrying broomsticks and Hermione was impressed they had flown all the way here from Surrey – though it was common practice to journey in this manner among wizards, Hermione knew it would be a great challenge for her mostly because she detested flying and it detested her.

From where she was, Hermione could see Harry admiring the dreary house until he looked straight ahead of him and paused. With his face lighting up in joy, he called, "Sirius!"

Hermione smiled as she heard a chair scratching on the ground and a rushing pair of footsteps as Sirius hurried to his godson. Harry embraced Sirius after what, Hermione did not doubt, was a long summer for them both. She could not be happier for her best friend. Sirius and Harry exchanged pleasantries, mentioning how glad they were to see each other before Harry was ushered to make his way upstairs by Mrs. Weasley, which was where he finally noticed the people waiting for him behind the banister.

"Hey, guys," Harry greeted with a wave of the hand that did not carry his trusty Firebolt.

Ron exclaimed, "Harry!" his voice was coated in relief, "Thank Merlin you came. I thought I was gonna die with all the talk about homework Hermione was giving me."

Harry stepped onto the landing of the first floor and laughed. "Maybe you should have done it then."

Ron opened his mouth in indignation, snapping, "Have _you_ done it?"

"Considering all the time I had this summer," Harry looked pointedly at Hermione and Ron, the latter of which glanced away uncomfortably, "yeah, I did it all."

Ron was shuffling awkwardly. "We're sorry, mate –"

Harry interjected, "I know you are. Hermione's told me Dumbledore ordered you to not contact me."

The ginger boy frowned, "When was this?"

"About a week ago," Hermione said.

He was about to open his mouth again but a knock on the door saved Hermione from answering any further questions about not listening to Dumbledore. Hermione knew Ron would pretty much interrogate her about she had managed it without breaking down in tears. That aside, Hermione noted that it was not often people _knocked_ on the door for 12 Grimmauld Place. The Fidellius Charm placed on the house, however, assured Hermione that whoever had knocked was definitely expressly invited here. The teenagers at the staircase turned their attention from Harry to Dumbledore who had walked out of the dining room to welcome whoever had arrived himself. He grabbed the knob of the door and then rotated it, pulling it open to reveal two individuals standing outside.

The older and taller of the two appeared to be in his late forties, had greying hair, and brown eyes. He looked quite familiar and it took Hermione a moment to fully recognise him, letting out a small gasp as she did.

His name was Edwin – but she knew him much better as the kind man who had risked his wand to show her that magic was normal. Hermione had lost the hope she would ever see him again and tears were about to blur her vision but the Headmaster of Hogwarts then spoke, "Lord Commander Desmond," offering his hand to be shaken.

The elation and the hope had to be put on a back burner as Dumbledore's words caught up with her. Lord Commander Desmond? The Headmaster of the Druid Institution?

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She had been made aware of the Lord Commander of the Druid Union's first name in the letter she had received from him – but she had simply overlooked it as a coincidence. There was a moment where she had made the connection, where she had really thought it could have been him. Hermione had pushed the thought away as soon as she reasoned there was no way the Lord Commander would have the time to comfort a little girl who was scared of being magical – among other things.

"Headmaster," Edwin smiled diplomatically – a smile so unlike the kind one he had shown her on that old fateful day, "I hope you do not mind my apprentice being here tonight," he indicated the boy who stood slightly behind him.

It was only then that Hermione noticed the quiet young man standing at Edwin's side. He did not seem to be any older than seventeen with his slender, slightly athletic, form and black matted hair which was parted to the side. His face was sharp, with a noticeably upturned nose, and eyes that were a remarkable and true silver, stormy from his dark surroundings.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in curiosity as she noted what the boy was wearing. She saw that he oddly wore a loose white shirt with an overcoat appearing to be made out of some sort of dark green leathery material and had a pair of black trousers tucked into the same coloured boots. Most interestingly of all, he wore a thick black coloured belt over his clothes and around his waist where he kept what looked like a sheathed sword. Hermione wondered why someone who seemed to be magical, or at least be aware of magic, felt the need to keep a blade on their person.

"Not at all," Dumbledore said, "Will he be sitting in on the meeting?" he asked as he gestured for the two to follow him down the hall to the dining room.

"If you permit it – he is here to experience diplomatic situations," Edwin answered.

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course – of course."

Hermione saw the three walk past the ascending staircase. The apprentice, however, paused just below her. He suddenly looked up at the group upstairs, his eyes sweeping across all of them until they landed on Hermione.

Their eyes connected and Hermione's world flashed into blinding white light.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

It is her.

He knows it is her.

Nicholas had read whatever he could get his hands on about soul bonds. He knew something would happen once he saw her, but the various theories of what authors thought would happen left Nicholas confused as to what it would be. Edwin had shown him pictures of Granger – of Hermione – and now that he had seen her in reality, now that Nicholas could not see past the bright light that encompassed his vision, he finally knew Edwin was correct and it was her all along.

The white light remained for a few seconds at most but it was still enough to make him stumble over his own feet.

Edwin rested a hand on his shoulder, noticing the stagger, and asked, "Are you well?"

The Prince shook his head to clear his rushing thoughts. Nicholas, feeling exuberant, was about to tell Edwin before he noticed that Dumbledore also wore the expression of concern on his face. He chose to say, "It is Granger – I did not think she would be here," while shooting a meaningful look at Edwin – which was understood completely if the smile the Lord Commander now carried was any indication. The hint of joy in the crinkles of the sides of the man's eyes reminded Nicholas of Edwin's own connection to the girl.

Dumbledore had an air of mischief rolling about him as he chuckled. He, of course, was going to assume Nicholas knew about Hermione through the Druid Union, which is exactly what Nicholas wanted him to think.

"She is friends with Mr. Potter. I invited her so that he may feel most at peace with the events that are occurring around him," Dumbledore smiled. He then lowered his voice and leaned in towards Nicholas, "I believe she is also – how do you youngsters put it – _unspoken for_ if you are wondering, young man."

Edwin laughed outright at the Headmaster's insinuation, mostly because he was more than a little correct but also completely mistaken. According to Brown's _Theory of a Magical Bond_ , soul mates are never single from the moment they are born. The man took a few moments so he could calm from his laughter enough to sink back into his diplomatic features. "Shall we go in, Headmaster?"

"Yes, of course."

Dumbledore pushed the door to the dining room and stepped inside, followed by Edwin and then Nicholas.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Hermione's eyes felt as if they were lit with what felt like the combined light of a thousand stars. Though she could not see a single thing, she was puzzled by the warmth of the light. Hermione had expected pain but all she felt was the soft heat that caressed her gently. There was an unexplainable sudden increase in her heartbeat that came hand-in-hand with the light. Little did she know, deep within her, inside the bright recess of her spirit where her conscience could not reach, a little fragment of a soul not belonging to her overjoyed at seeing his Other.

The light cleared after a few seconds and the boy was gone as she regained her sight. Hermione could hear Dumbledore talking outside the door briefly before they stepped inside but she had not been listening – too busy trying to work out what just happened and why she suddenly felt as if she had run a marathon.

Fred's voice spoke up, "Any idea who they were?" he leaned onto the banister and looked to his fellow eavesdroppers, not taking notice of Hermione's dazed state.

"Dumbledore called the older one Lord Commander Desmond," Ginny said.

"Lord Commander," Harry mumbled in thought, "isn't that what they call the leader of the Druid Union?" he looked over at Hermione who seemed to be deep in contemplation.

George snapped his fingers. "That's it!" he exclaimed, "He's probably here to talk about what's happening with Dumbledore on the International Confederation."

"What's happening with him?" Ron asked confusedly.

Fred started, "Haven't you been reading the Prophet? The Ministry's kicking Dumbledore out from the Confederation, saying that he's too old and batty –"

George continued for his twin, "– Mum and Dad reckon they're doing that to prevent any unwanted questions from being asked if Dumbledore manages to tell the Confederation about it all. Let's be honest, Britain can't afford an international investigation – especially since a lot of the old Death Eaters work in the Ministry."

Hermione abruptly questioned the twins, "Are you two done making those extendable ears?" before blushing at their raised eyebrows. She had to know what was happening in that room – maybe it was the key she was missing to understand what just happened to her.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

"They have carried through with my dismissal, I assume," Dumbledore remarked.

Edwin confirmed the older man's statement, "We were unable to overrule the argument of your Ministry believing you to be too senile for your role as Supreme Mugwump. However, many members of the I.C.W had suggested allowing an investigation to be conducted about your discharge."

"That is why you have decided to personally deliver this news to me?" Dumbledore asked, not showing any signs of being upset at his loss of station in the International Confederation of Wizards.

"One of the reasons," Edwin subtly glanced at Nicholas, before turning back to Dumbledore, "May I ask your opinion on why the Ministry would make such a rash decision? From what I have so far observed, you are not yet senile, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled, "I do not believe I am senile either, Lord Commander. I believe the return of a very dark wizard has been the reasoning behind all the fear regarding my position."

Edwin nodded "Yes – I had heard about Lord Voldemort."

Winces were seen in many of the faces inside the room and Nicholas nearly shook his head in annoyance – these people were really afraid of a name.

"Indeed," Dumbledore affirmed, "As you may know, Harry Potter had come back from the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament with a dead student in his arms and proclaiming the return of the dark lord," he suddenly looked every part the weary man as his aged face would suggest as he went on, "Rising tensions have been seen throughout the country. Questionable activities had been monitored and found in the same areas Voldemort's followers had been seen in during the last war. All evidence points to his return but fear is what has stopped the Ministry from taking action."

The Lord Commander sat up in his seat and in all professional scepticism inquired, "Can you be sure Potter was telling the truth? It is not unlike boys growing up with his kind of fame to want more attention."

Dumbledore paralleled Edwin's actions, except Nicholas supposed the Headmaster had straightened in his seat because of his annoyance at the accusation against his student. "Harry Potter did not know of his fame until he was eleven years old – even then, until even now, he is unsure of its capacity. I have been observing the boy for years now, out of respect for his parents who had died to ensure the security of this country, and have found no such greed in his character – I would vow this in front of the I.C.W itself."

"I apologise, Headmaster," Edwin said, "You understand it was a question the Confederation is likely to ask if I decide to spread this investigation."

The Headmaster took off his spectacles and laid them on the table, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Nicholas felt an ounce of sympathy for the man. Dumbledore sighed, "There is no need for apologies, Lord Commander, I know this is your work. Now," he looked directly at Edwin and asked, "what else held such importance it warranted your personal visitation?"

Edwin exchanged a fleeting look with Nicholas before he said, "That would be a discussion I would like to have either in private or with your most trusted allies."

"The individuals in this room are under oath to keep whatever is discussed in these meetings private, Lord Commander. They serve for the destruction of the darkness Voldemort brings. I trust every one of them," Dumbledore declared.

Much to the surprise of everyone present, Edwin bluntly retorted, "So I am to believe everyone in this room is aware of the contents of the prophecy concerning Potter and Voldemort?"

Dumbledore furrowed his thick grey eyebrows. "Yes, they are."

The Lord Commander paused for a moment before speaking, "I have some information concerning that prophecy but before I impart that intelligence may I know the full wording of it?"

"You and your protégé must take a vow of secrecy, Lord Commander. I apologise for my frankness but these are troubling times," Dumbledore stressed.

Edwin responded, "I appreciate directness, Professor. Do you have a specific oath you would like us to say?"

"None specific – I would appreciate a vow of complete confidentiality for the prophecy I will impart to you, discussing it only with individuals who are aware of it."

Both Nicholas and Edwin stood and pulled out their wands from the holsters on their forearms and raised them to point upwards. Simultaneously they spoke the words of their oaths. "I vow on my life and magic to keep the contents of the prophecy which is to be imparted by Albus Dumbledore completely confidential and to only discuss it with individuals who are aware of it."

The tips of their wands briefly glowed brightly before dimming in acceptance of their oaths. Sheathing their wands back into their holsters, Nicholas and Edwin re-joined the table and sat on their chairs.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Dumbledore said before he took a breath and recounted the prophecy, " _The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches . . .born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the dark lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the dark lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . . the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

Edwin glanced down at the mahogany table in review. Dumbledore seemed to understand this as he had also become silent so as to allow the Lord Commander some time to contemplate. A minute passed and Edwin spoke up, "I must say this does shed some light on some things myself and some others have been speculating about."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Before I can tell you – I know you said all the people in this room are under oath – can you confirm this once again?" Edwin's voice was free of any kind of suspicion but there was not a person in the room that thought his question was unreasonable.

"Yes, they are all under oath," Dumbledore replied.

Nicholas prepared himself. This would be the first time anyone outside of the goblins and the Desmond's would know about their prophecy – about a wizarding royal being found – about him and his part in the coming war.

Edwin looked to Nicholas as though he was seeking permission. When Nicholas subtly gave his consent, the Lord Commander revealed, "Then, I speak with all confidence – yours is not the only prophecy involving Potter and Voldemort as two of the main subjects."

Gasps were heard throughout the room as the Headmaster widened his eyes almost comically. He regained his composure after a moment and raised his hand to stop the chattering that had begun. Leaning forward, he asked, "Are you certain this second prophecy involves them?"

"Completely," Edwin affirmed, explaining, "Seers work in a network and only get hints of the future in the form of a series of images and words that are then conveyed in riddles. It is sometimes possible for a specific part of the network – of the future – to be accessed by more than one seer. In these cases, one seer may be able to see far more than another can, which is the case with the prophecy I knew before I came here."

Dumbledore slowly moved his head up and down in understanding. "May I hear that prophecy?"

Edwin nodded and then recited, " _From the rage of war, the Prince, the Lioness, and the Saviour approach as champions for all magical creatures. The Prince must become the king of wizards, unite with the Lioness and the Saviour, and vanquish their common enemy. The Lioness of infinite magic shall stand beside the Prince. The wise and the mighty leading a legion into burning flames, emerging through the ashes to a new world. Their souls shall be bound – a union destined to last a lifetime – and forged by the fates. They will be the joint power of the Saviour marked as the dark lord's equal on All Hallows' Eve. They shall have the might to destroy bigotry. They shall have the might to govern empires. The Age of Albion – an era of complete unification of all magical beings – will begin should the Saviour succeed and the dark lord dies. Born in the fires of conflict, the Prince, the Lioness and the Saviour are promised as the chosen ones."_

Nicholas had decided with Ragnarok and Desmond to re-word the prophecy so that he could hide his asset of having allies in the Goblin Nation until it needed to be known. It gave him some pleasure to see that Dumbledore did not seem to suspect it as the Headmaster as well as the rest of the occupants of the room were obviously taken aback in shock.

Minutes passed before a tall man with dark skin standing in the corner of the room closest to Dumbledore became the first to speak, "The wizarding world has not had a crowned individual for a few hundred years. Do you mean to tell us there is one now?"

"Yes," Edwin confirmed, "I cannot disclose any more information except for the fact that an heir had been found and he is the Prince of this prophecy. Potter is confirmed as he had been marked as the Saviour on Halloween, while the Lioness was recently found because of her bond with the Prince. I mean to say that this prophecy is as valid as the one you have been protecting."

"Why has it been kept from us?" Dumbledore inquired.

Edwin stated, "The security of the Prince was a priority. We had also decided to wait until either the Lioness revealed herself or the dark lord returned, much like you did with your own prophecy."

Dumbledore hesitated before saying, "The Prince and the Lioness have both been found. They are also what had not been mentioned in the prophecy I was previously aware of, which makes them what the dark lord knows not. I assume that they are both together –" he then asked, "where are they now?"

Nicholas took a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke for the first time in the meeting, "They are both here."

The Headmaster's head jerked to the boy so fast Nicholas feared that the man could have snapped it. Dumbledore's eyes roamed the Prince and seemed to be scanning him, visibly taking in all of the information they could as well as evaluating the knowledge he already had.

"You – you are the heir?" he faltered as if he had just made sense of more of the evidence he had gathered in his mental analysis. "Miss. Granger is the Lioness, that is why you had staggered at the landing of the stairs – you had seen her. And you," Dumbledore turned his eyes to the Lord Commander, "you have always known her destiny which is why you had desperately wanted her for your institute."

Desmond shook his head, "No, I never knew, it was only a speculation. I wanted her at the institute for a personal reason."

Sirius Black visibly narrowed his eyes in what Nicholas perceived to be protectiveness, asking, "What reason?"

The Lord Commander sighed and Nicholas held back showing his amusement on his face. Edwin was blunt by nature and often wished he minded the way he phrased his words. He explained, "I had met her long ago, she had been in an upsetting ordeal that I will not mention for her sake. She had experienced a great bout of accidental magic I was able to witness which was, to my knowledge, her first bout. I had never seen such sadness in a child, nor such power. I comforted her, brought her back to her home even," Edwin took a breath and admitted, "I had grown attached to the girl and I promised her when the time came, she could come to a place where she would belong, a place where I would always . . . protect her – that was my reason."

It was not often Nicholas was able to see one of the men he looked up to exhibiting his emotions this way. He could not even remember the last time Edwin had stuttered or hesitated in his speech. Partly knowing the story of how Edwin and Granger had met, Nicholas could somewhat understand the emotion.

Nicholas sensed his mentor's discomfort and decided to bring the attention back to himself, "I have known about her for years but, as you have already said, it was only confirmed today when I saw her in person."

Dumbledore nodded and sat back in his seat. "Pardon me for not asking before, Your Highness, but what is your name?" he asked.

The suddenness of the question from the Headmaster caught him by surprise and he blinked as he realised he had really not given his name yet. "Nicholas. Prince Nicholas from the House of Westerly."

Dumbledore widened his eyes in recognition. "Nicholas Westerly. You had sent your decline with your acceptance letter to Hogwarts nearly six years ago."

Nicholas shook his head, providing, "It was an obligation. Regrettably, my education required a much vaster expanse than what Hogwarts could offer me."

"I am sure we could have catered to your needs, Your Highness," Dumbledore argued.

Fantasies of a world where he had gone to Hogwarts and met Hermione and was raised normally began to flood his mind. Nicholas instantly went through the exercises Edwin had taught him to clear his thoughts. "Whether you could or could not have done so is irrelevant. I was educated elsewhere," he maintained.

"At the Druid Institute," Dumbledore assumed.

Nicholas shook his head again, "No – I was given a series of private instructors for each subject I have studied since the moment I was found to be the heir."

"And how do you know that you are truly the heir to the throne?"

The Prince chose his next words wisely. He did not want his alignment with the goblins to be known just yet. "The goblins had confronted me with their suspicions when I had been at Gringotts long ago. They had shown me a book that was given to them by the last Queen of the British wizarding throne in which the names of all descendants are written. All other entries except for my own are stated to be Non-Magical – which is why I have been shown as an heir."

Dumbledore stroked his long white beard in thought. "I have heard of this book. I also understand why Queen Eleanora would have given it to the goblins for safekeeping, considering the events that took place before and after her death. I am sure though the goblins have informed you of your rights as a royal and an only heir."

"I have been advised and have chosen to be coroneted on my seventeenth birthday which will occur next February. That should give time for the people, most especially the Ministry, to adjust to a change in total leadership in Wizarding Britain," Nicholas detailed.

The Headmaster nodded in agreement, "A wise choice. I would like to offer my aid to you, Your Highness. You have a very rocky journey ahead of you and you should be aware that I and the Order of the Phoenix are at your service," he gave Nicholas his hand to shake.

Nicholas acknowledged what Dumbledore had offered as he shook the old man's hand, "That is kind of you, Headmaster, but right now I have only one request."

"Which is?"

"I would like a private audience with Granger and Potter," he then glanced directly at the shaggy man with pale skin and haunted blue eyes sitting across from Dumbledore on the long table, "with their parents and guardians where possible."

While Nicholas was scanning the top floor of the house and looking at the people crowded at the top of the staircase earlier, the Prince was glad to see Potter was present. It was certainly not expected, but it made the trip much easier.

Dumbledore seemed hesitant before he agreed, swivelling his attention to a ginger woman sitting in the middle of the table, "Molly, if you will."

The woman stood from her seat and walked out of the door, presumably to fetch the two people the Prince had wished for. Dumbledore then began to usher the rest of the members of the Order outside. This only left the man Nicholas knew, from all of his wanted posters, as Sirius Black, Edwin, and himself inside the room.

Edwin unexpectedly turned to Black and questioned, "Were you given any sort of trial before your imprisonment, Lord Black?"

The scruffy man was taken aback at the direct question but then answered, "No."

Edwin thanked him and then became silent once again.

Nicholas felt excitement from the thought of seeing Granger again, this time knowing for sure who she was to him, but he wondered what it would be like for the man seated next to him. Edwin was not usually this quiet, especially if there was a stranger present in the room. He had always taught Nicholas that silence was the greatest sign of an ill-mannered individual so the only reason the Prince could think for his muteness now would be nerves. He must be deliberating if Granger would remember him.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Fred and George's extendable ears had been chewed up by Crookshanks, much to everybody's irritation. Not that it really mattered as Hermione had been annoyed to hear that even the slight mumblings which were usually caught from the door had quieted – most likely meaning a powerful silencing charm had been put up. Nonetheless, the twins had argued with Hermione, ending with her giving them a few galleons as compensation for the damages her cat had caused to their invention.

Boredom caused Fred, George, and Ron to leave about ten minutes after the death of the extendable ears. This had left Harry, Ginny and herself. However, after about another twenty minutes, Ginny had stood and walked away to her and Hermione's shared bedroom – all the while complaining about her aching behind.

Harry and Hermione sat on the edge of the stairs, side by side, waiting patiently for the Order meeting to be complete. They were mostly quiet as Harry could tell that Hermione was thinking about something, and he usually did not want to meddle when she became like this.

"I know him," Hermione abruptly said.

Harry snapped his head to the girl beside him, "What?"

She elaborated, "The Lord Commander – I recognise him. I've seen him before when I was younger."

"You knew him?" Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated, "No – I wouldn't claim to have known him but he took care of me the first time I had accidental magic."

He gave her a questioning look that begged her to explain.

"I was – really sad," she continued, choosing to not say why she was so upset, "I didn't even notice what was happening around me until he called me. When I finally noticed what I was doing, of course, I panicked. It wasn't normal."

Hermione's eyes shone with tears and Harry reached for her hand and held it. "I was so scared, Harry. The magic got so much worse but he didn't fear me as I thought he would. Even when the wind around me managed to knock him off his feet. He didn't back away; he was just kind. He showed me that magic was _normal_ and I wasn't alone. He could have left me there but he didn't, he gave me his name, took me home. I never thanked him."

Harry smiled and squeezed her hand in comfort. "Is that why you're waiting here, so you can thank him?"

She returned his smile and nodded. "Yeah. I've been looking for him for so long now. He was my first magical friend – he deserves my gratefulness and more. I just hope he remembers me."

The door to the dining room was then heard creaking open. Harry and Hermione quickly fell silent once again and leaned forwards to try and see what was happening. They watched curiously as Mrs. Weasley stepped out and shuffled her way to the bottom of the stairs, stopping upon noticing Harry and Hermione sitting at the top.

"Come along, dears," she said, "Professor Dumbledore asked for you."

The two looked at each other in surprise. Hermione stood and started towards the room belonging to the twins since it was the closest before she was stopped by the Weasley matriarch.

"No, just you two!" Mrs. Weasley called.

Harry shrugged at Hermione when she threw him a look of confusion. He began to head downstairs and Hermione followed a second after him.

Walking past the last step, members of the Order of the Phoenix began pouring out of the dining room, all heading straight to the front door. It was apparent the meeting was over and Hermione was slightly disappointed. She had thought that perhaps they would be permitted to see what an Order meeting was like, but that was undeniably out of the question now.

Feeling a slight bit of panic as she pressed herself to the side of the narrow hallway to let everyone pass, Hermione stood on the tips of her toes to ensure Edwin was not one of the people coming out of the room, preparing to stop him if he was. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as the last of the members had passed and Edwin had not been one of them. This could only mean he would still be inside the room with Harry and herself when they went in. Her mind also registered the fact if Edwin was there, the apprentice he had brought with him would be too.

Many of the Order had been giving her glances of either sympathy and some, most notably Tonks, also gave her smirking looks – like they knew something she did not.

Hermione questioned whether they knew about the light.

Just as they were about to walk in, the final person to walk out of the door was, surprisingly, Dumbledore.

"Sir?" Harry called to the old man, who seemed to be deep in thought and was about to walk past them, "Didn't you want to see us?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "The people who want to see you are inside, my boy. They have asked to speak with you both privately. Go," he indicated the door with his head, "they are waiting."

The Headmaster then walked away from the two befuddled teenagers and motioned for Mrs. Weasley to follow him back through the passageway.

Harry and Hermione stared at his retreating back and then looked to each other. Harry then shrugged again and started for the dining room door. "I didn't see Sirius come out, did you?" he asked.

"No, I didn't." she replied.

He turned the knob for the door, pulled it open and then proceeded inside accompanied by Hermione.

Harry's attention was locked to his godfather almost instantly while Hermione's was focused on the Lord Commander who had spun his head to lock eyes with Hermione as soon as she entered.

He had grown a lot older from the last time she had seen him almost eleven years ago. The sides of his hair were showing streaks of grey through them and wrinkles had begun to mar his features. He had also grown a nicely trimmed goatee on his face which aged him slightly more. When Hermione glanced down to see what he was wearing, she remembered how she thought his clothes were hilarious – the black cloak with high collars once making her think that he was some kind of superhero.

Edwin had stood up. His chair scraped the floor and he stared wide-eyed straight at her.

Perhaps he did remember her.

"Edwin," she whispered.

The man let out a small laugh of happiness, his brown eyes bright as he beheld her. "You have truly grown, Hermione Jean."

A few moments passed as she stood still, staring at him, and the many words she wanted to say became stuck in her throat. She tried to speak until she realised that words would not do. Rushing to him, Hermione threw her arms around him – like she remembered she did when she was five and he grew a beautiful little yellow rose from thin air, proving that he was magic too. Back then he had been on his knee, and she had been able to hug him from his neck. Now, though, he was stood to his full height and Hermione had opted to throw her arms around his waist and turned her head so that her ear was pressed against his chest.

She had caught him by surprise, she knew, but only a second passed before his arms enveloped her back.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured, "You were there when I most needed someone."

The brunette felt the man's hold tighten for a second before he began to loosen his grasp on her. Taking this as her cue to step back, Hermione let her arms fall to her side and tilted her head up to look at the man that had protected her.

"I am sorry I could not keep my promise," Edwin said with a sad smile.

She replied sheepishly, "The fault is mine – I didn't let you keep it,"

He laughed. "I do not see any fault. You are the greatest frustration the institute's admissions team has had since the school was created. It has brought me great amusement to see them pulling their hair out at your enigma."

"Not so much an enigma as not wanting to leave behind some friends who needed me."

Edwin hummed in understanding, glancing at Harry. "So that is why you kept refusing."

Hermione nodded.

"That is reasonable," he supposed, "I cannot say I would not have done the same."

The girl smiled.

Edwin motioned for Hermione to sit down on the seat next to him as he also lowered himself into his chair. She finally looked across to see that Harry and Sirius, who had also sat down, had been observing the exchange between Edwin and herself with smiles on their faces. Hermione was reminded of the curiosity she felt before entering the room.

She asked Edwin, "Why did you call me and Harry here?"

"Ah –" Edwin directed his stare to his apprentice next to him, "I was not the one who requested to speak to you both."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She turned her attention to the boy and saw that he was glaring at Edwin. It appeared the Lord Commander just threw him under the bus and Hermione found it hard not to burst out in laughter.

Another glare was shot at Edwin as he said, "Well, I do not really know how to start this . . ."

His voice was smooth and aristocratic. Hermione felt something in her chest stir from the vibrations of his speech.

Sirius must have felt sympathy for him and decided to help. "Perhaps you should start by telling them your name," he grinned.

The boy nodded and then stood, reaching his hand out for Harry's. "My name is Nicholas Westerly."

Harry shook his hand and also introduced himself, "Harry Potter."

Nicholas then brought his hand in front of Hermione and offered it to her as well. As they shook hands, silver eyes once again locked onto hers and Hermione half expected the world to go bright again but everything stayed the same – except for, of course, her increasingly rapid beating heart.

This was getting stranger by the second.

"Hermione Granger."

There was a slight burning sensation to her skin as her hand grasped his. Widening her eyes as the heat grew, Hermione quickly pulled her hand away at the same time that Nicholas pulled his own away. Rubbing her palm, Hermione stared at where she could still feel the warmth and noticed a slight glow encircling her hand.

"What's happening?" Hermione demanded when she saw the boy, Nicholas, not seeming too surprised at the event. He was turning his hand over as he held it up to his face in inspection.

Nicholas grimaced at her tone and gave her his full attention. "I will explain everything," he assured, "First, though, I would like to know if you are aware of the British wizarding royalty."

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Harry Potter spoke, "I didn't know wizards had royalty,"

Nicholas sighed and explained, "The line of succession had been dormant for almost five hundred years. Time has allowed people to forget about it."

"Dormant?" Harry asked, confused.

The Prince was about to clarify when Hermione Granger beat him to the punch.

"From what I've read," she started, "wizarding royal heirs are chosen from those who have a direct connection to the crown by blood and by magic. The line had been dormant because the last Queen only had squibs as children and their children were squibs and so on."

Harry nodded, understanding. "So what's that got to do with anything?"

Black scoffed, "Quite a lot."

"It had been revealed that a magical heir had been born quite some time ago," Nicholas continued.

Hermione widened her eyes. "Britain is going to have another King or Queen?"

Nicholas regarded the girl, letting his eyes roam her features. Rather wild brown tresses framed her heart-shaped face which carried eyes the colour of caramel – unlike Edwin's brown eyes that were much darker. Nicholas observed the distinction and wondered whether it lied in their significant age differences. Where Hermione was quite young and had, like Nicholas, much more to see in the world, Edwin was forty-five years of age and spent fifteen years being Lord Commander of the Druid Union. The man had been resolving wars when Nicholas had merely been in his crib.

Looking at Hermione, Nicholas saw innocence – and he deliberated if that was why Ragnarok eyed him the way he did. At times Nicholas would feel eyes on his back when he was sat studying the texts left by his tutors and would turn to see Ragnarok by the door, a sliver of guilt in his posture before he told Nicholas that a king never takes breaks, urging him to return to his studies.

This was a routine that had begun ever since the Goblin King had chosen to tell Nicholas of the prophecy. It was as if Ragnarok was battling with his own values every day Nicholas has been under his roof. The Prince never thought he would understand why this was until he saw the two others in the room who were about to be given the knowledge they would never be able to forget, knowledge that would forever change their outlook on their aspirations, knowledge that would follow them until the darkness ceased to overwhelm them all – knowledge which had affected him equally when he was told of it nearly six years ago.

Hermione Granger and Harry Potter would be forced into roles of soldiers, of revolutionaries, without having the age and the experience to be prepared for it – and it would be Nicholas that would have to deliver the message informing them of their destiny. The Prince suddenly understood his guardian much better – his guilt was silent and unexpressed but Nicholas now comprehended its ruthlessness as the very thought of the actions required to gain it alone weighed him down further than he already had been.

Merlin help him – Merlin help _them_.

Nicholas confirmed, "Yes – Britain will have a king."

Funnily enough, Hermione swiftly stared at Harry. "Please don't tell me Harry is the heir."

The look of apprehension Harry's face allowed Nicholas to gain a laugh at his expense. "No, Harry is not the heir," he then decided to be blunt in his next statement, "I am."

Harry and Hermione's widened eyes and dropped mouths were indeed so amusing that Black had burst out loud in laughter.

"Y-Your Highness." Hermione stuttered in shock.

Nicholas smirked and bowed his head in acknowledgment. She was rather endearing.

Harry then spoke, "I'm sorry – er – Your Highness, but that still doesn't explain why you wanted to talk to me and Hermione."

The Prince took a deep breath. "Firstly, do not feel you must use my title, my name is Nicholas. Secondly, how much do you two know about prophecies?"

Hermione shook herself out of her shock. "A prophecy is a prediction of the future made by a seer. It is usually kept in a small spherical object made out of glass which is then kept in the Hall of Prophecies within the Department of Mysteries," she recited.

"Exactly that," Nicholas nodded at Desmond who then took out one of the spherical objects that Hermione had mentioned and placed it in his hand. As the smoky mist inside the sphere swirled around, Nicholas stood and motioned for Harry to come closer to himself and Hermione.

Once Harry had sat down next to Hermione, Nicholas placed the sphere on the table with his hand placed on the top of it to keep it from rolling off. He explained, "This contains two prophecies that were made about sixteen to seventeen years ago. One involves all three of us, given to us by the Goblin Nation. The other only involves Harry and Voldemort and was heard from Dumbledore in the last Order meeting. Place your hand on either side and you should enter a trance where they both will be revealed to you."

Harry placed his hand on the right of the sphere while Hermione placed her own hand on the left. Their eyes instantly misted over.

Guilt and regret coated Nicholas as he glanced at Edwin who seemed to be just as upset by what they had decided was necessary if they required Voldemort to be defeated in the quickest way they could measure. The irony was not lost on Nicholas, though – the first act of the revolution to bring peace would be to destroy innocence, corrupt purity, and create soldiers out of adolescents.

Nicholas did not know how they would react to this but knew his reasoning to be sound. They would have found out sooner or later – better it came from him who was supposed to be their ally.

Minutes passed and the mist over their eyes finally fell. Hermione was suddenly taking deep, rapid breaths all the while Harry's expression remained unseeing, or rather, dejected.

Sobs escaped Hermione's lips and she covered her mouth with her hand as a tear rolled down her cheek. She leaned over to where Harry was sitting, facing towards him, and placed the side of her face on his shoulder. "I – I'm so – so sorry." she cried.

He glanced down at his lap in misery before swallowing and turning his head to lean his own head onto the shoulder of his friend. Harry's jaw was clenching and unclenching but Nicholas could clearly see two shining green eyes on the brink of drowning in sadness.

Black shuffled his way over to Harry and Hermione – presumably to comfort them – and leaned down to become level with them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. His gaunt face was scrunched in concern for the teenagers.

They drew comfort from each other before Harry looked directly at Nicholas, "You're the Prince of the first prophecy."

Nicholas nodded in confirmation.

There was a pause before Harry asked, "Am I the Saviour?"

Again, Nicholas nodded.

Hermione's head then slowly rose from Harry's shoulder. Her tears stained her cheeks, her face was puffy, her face was flushed, but she still gaped at Nicholas with trepidation and sudden awareness.

"You are the Lioness," Nicholas said, his voice slightly shaky, as he kept his gaze steady on her.

"We –" she hesitated, "We're going to – We're soul bonded?"

The Prince gave a single reluctant nod in answer – he would have rather not replied if he knew that it would make the look of distress in her eyes intensify.

"And the light when I saw you . . . the burning when we shook hands . . ." Hermione was connecting the dots. Nicholas could see she was becoming more aware that his belief – now a known reality – may be correct.

He explained, "It is the bond's way of beginning to solidify – getting rid of excess magic that is being formed due to our presence around each other."

With Hermione becoming more conscious of the notion, her recoil from him deepened as if she was struck by horror at the very thought of it. Her rate of breathing was only increasing as the seconds ticked. Nicholas was on edge fearing the girl would force her body into cardiac arrest – her unease making him feel a sort of physical discomfort, especially knowing that he was the one causing it.

"A soul bond . . ." she shook her head in denial, "I can't – I can't have a soul bond."

Nicholas heard the sure signs of a panic-induced attack in the process of building in her voice. He quickly glanced over at Edwin for assistance – knowing his experience in calming the girl. The Prince's silent cry for help did not fall on deaf ears.

"Hermione," Edwin called the girl's attention to himself, waiting until her wide eyes were on him before continuing, "Nicholas was fearful when he himself learned of the bond. If you are anything like him or what the reports had suggested about your character, I know you are frightened of what this would mean in relation to your and your partner's mindful choices. Your ability to choose your desires will not be corrupted by this bond. It will not have the influence to force you to do anything unwillingly as most fictions depict."

Nicholas appreciated Edwin's words. It made the Prince feel somewhat better to know that his soul mate may only be having such a reaction because of the same fear which seized him when he had learned what a bond really was.

Hermione's chest was heaving with panicked breaths but Desmond had her attention. "H – How do you know?"

He replied, "The Union of Druids has a large archive which has all manners of records and accounts of soul bonds throughout time. I was assigned by His Highness's guardian to learn whatever I could and relay it back to him so he could learn more. If you so wish, I will be able to borrow some of these books for you to read."

She nodded, her trembling still remaining even through the assurance of her old friend.

Nicholas spoke then, "I – I know you will want a lot of answers and I am more than prepared to provide them," he hesitated, "I have lived my life in isolation from wizards, the only two others I know are the Lord Commander and his wife – I can assure you I am as uncertain as you are. All I know is that I do not wish to cause you harm – nor any pain or discomfort."

Harry visibly clutched Hermione's hand as she reached for it while she responding, "I'm sorry, Your Highn–"

"Nicholas," the Prince quickly corrected.

"– I'm sorry, Nicholas. We don't know each other. And this bond – it implies that we – we're going to be . . ." she faltered.

The Prince gave her a look of understanding. "I am well aware of how much we do not know about each other. This bond – this connection – although not chosen by either of us, is present nonetheless. I know you may feel that your choice of partner," he shifted uncomfortably, "is stolen from you but I am more than willing to make up for that."

The last words were no sooner out of his mouth as Hermione's flinch recoiling her further from him. Quickly continuing so Hermione would not further misinterpret his words he said, "What I mean to say is, we may not have the capability for preference – it being taken from us before we were even born – but that does not mean we must give up our ability to decide how we proceed from here."

Hermione blinked at him and Nicholas could detect a slight shift in her manner. Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion and her tremors lessened – he felt an inch of delight that he was getting through to her, regardless of her trepidation.

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

Nicholas leaned back into his chair, his posture relaxing. Ragnarok had taught him a lot about political situations – how the smallest of gestures would be the difference between someone being comfortable around you or utterly anxious. This was not a political situation, Nicholas knew, but he hoped that the movement would be able to reduce the tension in the room.

"Tell me," he began, "is it true all friendships begin with nothing at all – just the encounter of two strangers with something in common?"

Her face suggested that she was struck by surprise. "I suppose," she admitted after a slight pause.

"You said that we do not know each other and I agreed. We have the choice now to learn – by means of friendship – everything that we want to know. This war is one that we all," Nicholas glanced at the faces of Harry, Black, and Edwin before looking back at Hermione, "are going to fight together – that is what we have in common. I am your ally by prophetic inference, but I wish to be your friend of my own accord."

When Hermione still appeared somewhat unsure, the Prince attempted to further persuade her. "If you befriend me and decide that I am to remain just that – your friend – I will accept and respect it because that would be your _choice_ ," he expressed, "I implore you at least offer me the peace of giving me that chance of companionship. That way, the bond would not be detrimental to what we both want in our lives."

Whether it was the words he spoke or the way his eyes beseeched her or the way Edwin had given her an assuring gesture – she smiled tentatively at the Prince after a minute of pensive silence. "I think – I think friendship won't hurt. I want to know you, Nicholas."

Nicholas smiled in return, his heart jumping at her words. "Then you will."


	4. The Discussions

**CHAPTER III – THE DISCUSSIONS**

Hermione felt unsteady.

In a single evening, she had found that herself and one of her best friends, Harry Potter, were two crucial central figures within a prophecy, with another part revolving around her soul mate – a prince, who will be the king of Wizarding Britain.

Saviour. Lioness. Prince. Soul bond.

 _Harry. Her. Nicholas. Soul bond._

Lioness. Prince. Soul bond.

 _Her. Nicholas. Soul bond._

Prince. Soul bond.

 _Nicholas. Soul bond._

Soul bond.

 _Soul bond._

The number of times these words flew around Hermione's head held no bearing on the girl as she was still unable to fully grasp them. The ebony-haired, light grey-eyed boy sitting next to Edwin at this very moment was her magical _soul mate_.

She had heard of these soul bonds before, of course. Mrs. Weasley had enough romance novels to gossip about for Hermione to learn that actually having a soul mate was a real possibility – a distinct, almost untraceable one, but a possibility nonetheless. The novels fed on this possibility and regurgitated lies to all people who read them, making them dream up fantasies and ideas that it could happen to them, that they could find their soul mate and marry them and have children with them and live happily ever after.

Hermione never bothered to read such stories, despite Parvati and Lavender recommending them to her in an attempt to try and find something they could all have in common. Even now, the titles that her two dorm mates had mentioned did not appeal to Hermione and there was little probability of her actually even glancing at them, simply because they lacked the facts that she most desperately needed.

The blunt truth was that Hermione knew a lot of things. If asked about the side effects of Wolfsbane or why Wizarding Britain's government felt the need to create the Wand Legislation of 1843, Hermione was very sure she would be able to write at least a three-page essay on each subject. This surety was naught, however, when she came to the conclusion that her knowledge, however extensive, did the cover the topic of soul bonds.

This unnerved her.

" _Your ability to choose your desires will not be corrupted by this bond. It will not have the influence to force you to do anything unwillingly as most fictions depict."_

These words were the only ones Hermione was sure to call facts, mostly because of the man who spoke them. Edwin's statements were comforting, to say the least, especially when the prince had proven them by giving her the choice to accept a deeper friendship than that of the one they were forced to abide by due to the prophecy forcing them to work together. He gave Hermione the ample opportunity to refuse him, or at least ask for more time to make her decision, and her mind rattled through the advantages and disadvantages of both refusing or accepting his proposition. The other-worldly symptoms of their bond when she first saw him and then shook his hand were pleasantly absent as she came to her decision, conscious and aware that the sure indications of any sort of compulsion on her were pretty much non-existent.

Despite this, Hermione was not yet, nor did she think she would ever be, comfortable with the idea that she had, in mere moments, been made restricted to one person with whom she could be entirely romantically involved. However, she was glad that Nicholas did not seem, at a first impression, to be as selfish or forceful as she thought others may have been if put in his position. It was obvious that, as a prince, he could have merely used his status to force her to accept the bond in any way he wished. This sparked an intrigue in Hermione – for she could not think of any other reasons he would give her the chance to have back a little piece of humanity that was stolen away when he first entered her life, apart from considering and respecting her own feelings on the matter.

Hermione's initial disbelief about the existence of some sort of connection between herself and this stranger she had just met was thrown away once she placed all the obvious clues aside and felt the differences inside her. Even now, as Hermione sat in the dining room of Grimmauld Place while listening to Nicholas whispering to Edwin, allowing herself and Harry some time to absorb all that had happened, she felt the erratic and unsteady beating of her heart. This was not what made Hermione believe in the bond between them, though. She had credited that to the most ethereal sense of peace she had ever known which was awakened in his steady presence. Hermione's mind was calmer than she could ever remember it being, her thoughts were organised and not whirring around constantly like they usually would, and her emotions were tranquil.

Time had appeared to stop inside Hermione as she felt like she was merely a spectator of the world passing in front of her and she finally understood what Nicholas had meant when he spoke of wanting peace by having at least a friendship with her. His desire for this clarity was now mutual since, though she loathed to admit it out loud to anyone, Hermione wanted it too.

Edwin's voice cut into her thoughts as he said to everyone in the room, "There is a lot to be done, especially where the Ministry of Magic is concerned."

"They're not believing Voldemort's back," Harry said.

Edwin hummed. "They have also decided to expel you from Hogwarts and strip you of your wand privileges."

"Dumbledore spoke about that in the meeting earlier before you arrived," Sirius informed. "Harry's been summoned to a hearing in front of the Wizengamot tomorrow."

In the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Nicholas raise an eyebrow at Edwin before he said, "That is brilliant – perfect, in fact."

"You have a plan?" Hermione asked.

"I have several plans," Nicholas replied, looking rather pleased. He gestured to Edwin. "Lord Commander, if you will."

Edwin pulled his wand from his arm-holster and placed it on the table in front of him. He then gave his attention to Harry. "In order to make a particular plan we have in mind work; I will need to access your memories – specifically the return of Lord Voldemort."

Harry seemed to be unsure as he looked between Edwin and Nicholas. "Will it hurt?"

"No, no," Edwin quickly responded. "It will only make you relive the memory, which may upset you. This is why I ask your permission."

Sirius gave a reassuring smile to Harry who, after a second of savouring the comforting presence of his godfather, turned back to Edwin and told him, "Go on."

Edwin stood up, picked up his Birchwood wand from the table and walked to Harry who still sat right next to Hermione. "What I am about to do is called Legilimency," Edwin informed. "It is a type of magic that allows an individual to read another's mind."

Harry visibly leaned away in hesitance. Hermione knew he was an awfully private person and was probably about to ask whether there was any other way of extracting the memory that would not involve wracking through all of his thoughts. However, Edwin was able to speak first, saying, "I will not delve anywhere you do not want me to. To make this easier I want you to think about the specific memory I asked you for so that it is at the front of your mind and I do not need to look for it."

Nicholas then assured, "I have been trained by the Lord Commander in the technique of preventing Legilimency attacks on my mind. This required him to read my mind – attack it, if you will – at any given time. During the period of learning how to counteract these attacks, I always felt him retreat instantly as soon as he was able to break my mental walls. When he says he will not violate your privacy, he tells true."

Though Hermione acknowledged that his words were able to calm her best friend, she was still astonished. "You've already learned Occlumency?" she asked, eyes wide in astonishment. "How _old_ are you?"

The prince chuckled and replied, "I am sixteen."

 _He's older than me,_ Hermione thought before she immediately recoiled. His age compared with her own was beside the point.

Nicholas continued, explaining, "Learning was necessary. My sources suggest that Voldemort is a master in Legilimency and I do not wish for the dark lord to know every scheme or strategy I have."

The brunette cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "How long did it take you?"

"Oh," Nicholas appeared to think for a moment and then eventually said, "about four years, but I am still learning. My walls are not completely impenetrable yet, unfortunately, and that is what they must be to avoid breaking against Voldemort's force."

Edwin apparently noticed Hermione's interest in the subject and added, "The arts of Legilimency and Occlumency are both complicated and difficult to learn, with Occlumency being the harder of the two. I was only able to fully master Occlumency after about five years of steady periods of meditation."

Excitement and wonder led Hermione to ask, "Could you teach me?"

Harry snorted while Edwin laughed. Sirius and Nicholas both smiled. The Lord Commander, smirking, gave her a pointed look as he said, "Yes, I could teach you, but I should tell you that it would have been part of one of your extra-curricular electives should you have chosen to attend the Druid Institute."

Hermione grimaced in apology. "I had thought about it, Edwin, but I couldn't just leave."

"Quite right too," Edwin agreed, giving her a knowing look and telling her, "I would never have thought you would turn out to be someone who abandons those who need you."

There was a brief moment where Hermione travelled back in time to the day she first met Edwin, to the day she remembered as her worst day, but she shook her head before she allowed herself to be immersed back into the darkness. Hermione had drowned in the shadows left by the departing figure in her mind, but now she had her mum and dad – and they would never betray her.

Harry must have sensed a slight discomfort in Hermione and he attempted to change the subject, questioning, "So Legilimency will get you into my mind?"

A small smile lit up the side of Hermione's mouth. She did not deny that she relied on Harry's help as much as he relied on hers.

"Yes," Edwin replied. "Like I said before, it is painless and quick so long as the memory I am searching for is at the forefront of your mind."

Harry nodded in understanding. Edwin then raised his wand and, after allowing the boy a few moments to prepare, whispered, "Legilimens."

Edwin gently shut his eyes, as though he was simply resting them, at the same time Harry own eyes clenched shut. Hermione could see the Lord Commander's eyes quickly moving beneath his eyelids like he was thoroughly searching for something.

The two remained like that for almost five minutes before Hermione, slightly worried, turned her head to Nicholas, inwardly remarking that he was quite fidgety as she observed him playing with the belt that kept his blade fastened to his waist. "Surely it shouldn't take Edwin this long to find the memory," she said.

Nicholas appeared to be quite surprised before he answered, quite briefly and slightly patronisingly, "Did Edwin not mention before? Our plans require him to watch the memory all the way through which is why Harry would be reliving those memories."

His tone left Hermione quite miffed and she snapped, "And when, exactly, are we going to be enlightened to these plans? From what I've been hearing since I met you, you keep telling us you have plans, but you give us little clue as to what they actually are –"

"Hermione," Sirius warned.

"No," Hermione exclaimed, turning from Sirius's disapproving face and staring straight at Nicholas who had furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips in bewilderment. Her following words were quick and striking. "I concede you've been preparing for quite some time, Your Highness, but need I remind you that Harry and I haven't had that privilege," she glanced at the clock behind Sirius, "An hour – that's how long we've known that we're respectively the Saviour and the Lioness. An hour and now we have the destiny to destroy Voldemort – without the first clue to how we would do it because there are those who would rather continue to call them plans than actually detail them."

Her sudden change of demeanour seemed to shock Nicholas for a minute. During his silence, Hermione's chest rose and fell quickly from her verbal exertion and she felt an inch of regret as she realised that she just told off the future king. He did not look like he would execute her, however, as he gave her a knowing look and humbly bowed his head to her, calmly saying, "I am sorry for the offence I have caused. It is rather easy, I find, to forget that I am not talking to Edwin or my guardian, both of whom know of the prophecies and indeed have helped me to train in preparation since I was eleven-years-old. I never intended to act as though I knew better or that I would keep secrets, I assure you that both you and Harry will know everything I know by, at most, tomorrow."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Why wait till tomorrow if you're going to tell us anyway?"

A timid smile grew on the prince's face as he said, "Another fault in my speech, I am sorry. I had meant it would take about two days to relay all of the information gathered to you." Nicholas released a slight laugh and he stared pointedly at Hermione, "There is a lot of it, nearly six years' worth of research."

The brunette's face turned slightly red.

He continued, "There is no need to worry in terms of your preparation because, though the information I will give you is invaluable to our cause, there are a large number of unknowns in terms of how the war will carry through. This is why the few things we _do_ know, such as the involvement of the Saviour and Lioness in the coming war as well as the formation of Albion, will not be tampered with."

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded in acceptance. She knitted her eyebrows as she tried to remember where she heard the term 'Albion' in the prophecy she had heard earlier. Upon recalling, she quoted, _"The Age of Albion – an era of complete unifications of all magical beings."_

"Yes," Nicholas smiled. "As you probably already know, the relations between wizards and other magical creatures with the intelligence for speech are – uh –" he trailed off, unable to find a word to describe the situation.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and offered, "Non-existent."

The prince laughed. "Indeed, but I hope that to be one of the issues I will remedy during my reign."

"How would you do that?" Hermione asked.

Nicholas considered, then said, "Well, I suppose I would start by removing all of the unnecessary restrictions – which, I should mention are nearly all of the restrictions – placed upon them through time from the absence of the crown. I would then open communications between us all since, so far, wizards had only communicated commands and legislations to other creatures – demands which left no room for objection."

Pleasantly surprised at his consideration of wizard-creature relations, a topic which was sparsely discussed between wizards due to it being deemed unimportant, Hermione stated with an air of being impressed, "You seem sure they would be willing to talk to you."

He let out a long breath and grinned. "I assure you I am not certain they will, but I was taught to have an equal measure of both confidence and hope by my guardian," he said as his smile turned reminiscent. "He believed it to be the mark of a good king."

Hermione smiled, unknowing that she has gained some respect for the prince. "Then I suppose he raised you well," she said. "Confidence is the strength of the mind while hope is the strength of the heart – I agree that embodying both would be necessary for a king."

Nicholas sat up straighter in his chair in pride with an expression of appreciation on his face.

Harry then suddenly gasped and jerked back in his seat. Hermione's head snapped to the boy, worried to see tears in his eyes paired with a haunted look which shrouded over his features. Edwin shook his head to the side and walked back to his seat next to Hermione, falling into it as soon as he reached it. The Lord Commander's brown eyes were wide in either horror or sadness; Hermione could not yet tell.

"What's wrong?" she asked in concern, looking between Edwin and Harry.

It was apparent that neither were quite ready to answer straight away, but Edwin was eventually able to find his strength. "In all my years . . . all I have seen," he started, his voice shaky. "I am sorry to say the memory I have just watched will become one of the worst of my own."

He then turned to Nicholas who also appeared to be quite concerned. "There was a ritual – Voldemort was not in hiding," Edwin said with the effect of his words being instant.

"Bastard," Nicholas hissed. "Horcrux – he made a damned Horcrux."

Hermione wracked her brain trying to think if she ever heard – or read – the word 'Horcrux' during her time as a witch and found that she had not. The way Nicholas had spat the word out like it was an additional curse to the one he had already said made Hermione feel as though she did not want to know.

"What's a Horcrux?" Harry inquired.

Edwin replied, rubbing his forehead like he was exhausted, "The vilest piece of magic known to all creatures who use magic." He looked up to see Hermione and Harry giving him blank looks and so, he elaborated, "A Horcrux is used as a tool to allow a wizard to gain immortality."

"But I thought that was impossible!" Hermione exclaimed.

Sirius shook his head, much to Harry and Hermione's surprises. "It is very much possible," he said. "Most wizards – including Grindelwald, who was considered to be the darkest of them all before Voldemort – are usually too afraid to go through with the ritual required to create a Horcrux."

Harry asked, "At the graveyard then – what I saw – that was Voldemort making a Horcrux?"

"No," Edwin answered. "What you saw was Voldemort going through a procedure to gain a new body. A Horcrux is made by splitting one's soul and placing it within an object – living or inanimate."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "So if he was gaining a new body, how do you know it's a Horcrux that brought him back?"

"The only reason a body would be required is when the original is destroyed which, for Voldemort, took place fifteen years ago," Edwin explained. "When his magic backlashed against Lily Potter's sacrificial magic, his body was rendered inhabitable, but he was able to live on because his soul was anchored to this world through the piece of his soul that he must have extracted sometime before the events at Godric's Hollow . . ." he trailed off and his eyes widened in some sort of realisation, glancing up at Harry's scar, asking, "Why did you scream when Voldemort touched you, Harry?"

"Er – I don't really know," Harry answered in confusion, reaching up to rub his forehead where his lightning-bolt shaped scar laid. "The scar always sort of stings whenever Voldemort is near."

Nicholas's face was aghast. "You have faced him before?"

"Twice before the Third Task," Harry replied. "At the ends of me and Hermione's first and second-year."

Edwin and Nicholas stared at each other in shock.

"Could you tell us about those times?" Edwin requested.

Harry thought for a moment in recollection and then said, "The first time was when Voldemort possessed the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He was after the Philosopher's Stone."

"That makes sense," Nicholas commented. "He attempted to steal it to gain back his own body, yes?"

Harry nodded in affirmation. "Yeah," he confirmed.

Edwin said, "The Philosopher's Stone was the only other possibility that was considered to be what would allow the dark lord to return. That is until the Druid Union was called upon by Dumbledore and Flamel to securely dispose of it."

"How about the other time you confronted Voldemort?" Nicholas asked Harry.

"That was in second-year," Harry said. "He looked younger – about Prince Nicholas's age – and he was trying to come back through his old diary, but I stabbed it before he could come back fully."

Nicholas took a sharp intake of breath in shock, however, he soon furrowed his eyebrows, apparently not understanding something Harry said. "Stabbing the diary stopped him?" he asked, his expression was incredulous as he glanced at Edwin. "How did you stab it?"

"I used a Basilisk fang," Harry stated.

Edwin was horrified. "There truly was a Basilisk in Hogwarts?" he cried.

"How the hell were you able to find a bloody Basilisk?" Sirius asked crossly, though Hermione was aware that he was not angry at Harry, rather, he was concerned for him.

"Well, it was Hermione who found out it was a Basilisk attacking the muggle-born students in the first place, but then she was attacked as well before she could tell anyone," Harry said. "I was holding her hand in the Hospital Wing and found what she found out on a piece of paper. I followed her clues until me, my friend Ron, and Professor Lockhart found the Chamber of Secrets."

"You were _petrified?_ " Nicholas asked Hermione, his light-grey eyes ablaze.

She shrugged. "Me and three other muggle-born," she answered.

The prince's nose visibly flared in anger as he took a breath to calm himself and scowled, saying, "Dumbledore will have much to explain."

"Indeed he will," Edwin snarled.

Nicholas then prompted Harry, "You found the Basilisk in the Chamber . . ."

Harry shook his head. "I found Tom – I mean, Voldemort, but his name used to be Tom Riddle – he was inside with the student he was possessing. He set the Basilisk on me –"

Nicholas interrupted, raising his voice in horrific disbelief, "It was still alive when you were inside?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, helped me kill it – not before it bit me on the arm with the fang I used to stab the diary."

This was something Hermione had not heard before in Harry's previous accounts of what happened while she was petrified. Hermione stared at Harry until he finally felt her worried eyes on him and he assured, "Don't worry, Fawkes healed the bite completely," he pulled his sleeve up and showed her his arm, "There isn't even a scar."

Hermione took a good long look at his arm and, once confident with Harry's state of good health, switched back to the subject at hand, "Then you used that fang to stab the diary."

Harry nodded again. "I don't know why I did it. Fawkes dropped the diary in front of me and I still had the fang in my hand so I just did the first thing that came to mind," he explained. "The fang burnt a hole all the way through the diary and Tom was screaming like he was in pain until he disappeared."

Edwin and Nicholas gave each other knowing looks.

"The diary was probably a Horcrux, Voldemort's first Horcrux judging by how young Harry described him to be," Edwin claimed. He then took a breath before asking Harry, "The burning in your scar . . . is it _only_ when Voldemort is in your presence?"

The boy-who-lived took about a dozen seconds to contemplate. "Yeah," he eventually replied surely. "Why?"

Edwin and Nicholas seemed to both be quite hesitant to speak. Their reluctance worried Hermione greatly and she just knew whatever they were going to say was not going to be good – taking into consideration the last time they had those looks before they showed Harry and Hermione the prophecies.

Nicholas was the first to break the silence and Hermione braced herself. "From what you have told us, Harry, Edwin and I now have good reason to believe that your connection to Voldemort is much deeper than initially expected," he paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts. "The burning of your scar in his presence coupled with your link to him through the prophecies – I mean, I think when Voldemort murdered your mother and father, he was successful in splitting his soul once again –"

Hermione gasped loudly in realisation as she steered her terrified eyes to her best friend who remained bewildered. His green eyes met Hermione's own, her face being one of utter shock and despair. Harry was further thrown into confusion when she whispered, "No," in anguish. Hermione reached to grasp his hand and Harry allowed her to do so while silently questioning her as to what was going on.

An air of reluctance surrounded her words as she began, "Edwin told us a Horcrux can be placed into any object living or inanimate . . . and I'm assuming you were the closest thing to Voldemort after he killed your mum that wasn't broken," Hermione's voice wavered and she was able to use this hesitance to glance around and notice a fuming Sirius along with Edwin and Nicholas both being consumed by their own thoughts. Her grip on Harry's hand tightened. "That means when the killing curse backfired, a piece of Voldemort's soul was able to find it's way into your scar."

Nicholas frowned. "At first, I had thought you refused treatment on your scar because you wished to have something worthwhile to boast about to your friends – something that you found made you easily recognisable. Now, though, I can see that you are humble and the real reason the scar is not able to heal is because the dark magic surrounding the piece of Voldemort's soul residing inside you would prohibit any natural or medical healing – it being harmful to the piece," he explained.

Harry was struck by terror. "A piece of V-Voldemort is . . . inside me?"

"I am sorry," Nicholas replied, a pitying look on his face.

Edwin sighed and told Nicholas, "There is a high chance Dumbledore is aware of the Horcrux situation."

Nicholas laughed maliciously. "High chance?" he asked rhetorically. "There is no chance at all because he definitely _knows_."

The older of the two agreed, "The diary was far too obvious to be ignored and I have an inkling the Headmaster may have expected Mr. Potter to have a Horcrux within him."

"What makes you think that?" Sirius asked.

"Dumbledore was the one to witness the prophecy which focused only on Harry and Voldemort sixteen years ago," Edwin started. "It is quite obvious from all of the evidence that Voldemort had been attempting to return to a physical form for a long time now. The Headmaster would be foolish to not have made the connection and know Voldemort's soul lived on and the prophecy was still in motion –"

Nicholas interjected, looking at Harry. "Does Dumbledore know about your scar hurting?" he asked.

"He does," Harry responded in a mutter, his face still ashen.

The prince clapped his hands together and pointedly stared at Edwin. He gestured to Harry while still keeping his eyes on Edwin and asserted, "Dumbledore knows Harry is a Horcrux."

Hermione was listening intently to the conversation in front of her and she found a lot of Dumbledore's actions in the last few months were starting to make sense, the jagged puzzle pieces now fixing themselves and fitting perfectly into the bigger picture in her mind. Her theory was logical, now all she needed was some validation. "Would the connection between Harry and Voldemort cause any trouble for the Order of the Phoenix – as in, give Dumbledore any reason to keep Harry in the dark about everything that's happening?"

"I suppose, yes," Edwin answered uneasily. "The nature of this link between both Harry and Voldemort is still a thing of mystery for myself. Dumbledore, however, has had time to observe and comprehend it. He would have collected enough information throughout the years to conclude it to be unsafe for Harry to know any of this."

Sirius leaned forward in curiosity. "You obviously don't agree with that decision," he stated.

"No, we do not," Nicholas said. "We have a way –"

Edwin interrupted the prince, knowing what he was about to say, "Your Highness!" he exclaimed, "We do not know if we will be able to . . ."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "I will do everything to ensure it, Lord Desmond. We have the means; it would be cruel to keep that from him."

The Lord Commander shook his head, attempting to halt Nicholas with his words. "I felt his mind when I was watching his memories. There was nothing to suggest any tampering from the dark lord."

"That does not mean the soul piece cannot influence him in the future," Nicholas said.

Hermione glanced between the two confusedly. Her eyes caught Harry's for a moment before he immersed himself in the conversation between the two once again, knowing that they were arguing about something to do with him.

Nicholas gazed at Edwin a moment longer, until the man sighed, apparently meaning he had given his approval, and the prince turned back to Harry and continued to say, "We have a solution – a way to extract the Horcrux."

"You can – you can get it out?" Harry spluttered, green eyes hopeful.

"Yes," Edwin answered resignedly. "I expect arrangements will be made so the procedure can take place sometime after your hearing at the Ministry."

"It will most likely take place at Gringotts, the dark magic being safest to remove there," said Nicholas.

Hermione was shaking her head in disbelief. "This has been with Harry for nearly his whole life, Dumbledore knowing it was there since, at least, his second-year – I mean, why didn't Dumbledore do this before, if it really is as simple as a medical procedure?" she asked.

"That is a very good question, Hermione," Edwin smiled.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "A very good question with an unfortunately very simple answer."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in expectancy. "And what would that be?"

"The procedure will not be conducted by wizards, but rather goblins," Nicholas replied, but at Hermione's confused look he continued, "Older wizards – especially ones in superior positions like Dumbledore – are raised in the belief that they are better than everyone else –"

"Dumbledore doesn't believe in all of that!" Harry defended the Headmaster passionately.

"Whether he has told you he has or not is unimportant. Wizards have always felt that they are the greater species where it comes to magic – that if there is not an answer in the wizarding world, there cannot be one anywhere else – a notion which is clearly untrue," Nicholas informed. "Do you think the goblins received their ability to conjure resilient magical wards that guard fortunes effectively from _wizards?_ Do you think house elves are able to use wandless magic and summon an item of clothing from across a home because _wizards_ taught them to do so? Are you telling me that Hogwarts has taught you anything that even allows you to think that wizards are not the only capable users of magic?" he mirrored Hermione's look from before, raising both of his eyebrows, this time in mock-expectance.

The room was stunned into silence. Hermione attempted to think through her educational experience while being part of the wizarding world, trying to come up with anything at all to rebuff Nicholas's claims. However, she eventually came to the reluctant conclusion that Nicholas was indeed correct. Hermione had seen the goblins being trusted with wizarding finances but was never told why it was specifically the goblins when wizards were perfectly capable of protecting their own wealth. Further, she had realised the strong magical abilities possessed by the house elves in fourth-year, but she never made the connection that they used magic without wands effortlessly, compared to wizards for whom it was said to be a great struggle to master.

When she thought on it a bit more, she also realised that the very title for the subject _Care of Magical Creatures_ was quite arrogant. It was indicative of wizards believing it was their responsibility to attend to creatures, completely ignoring that they either had the capability to take care of themselves naturally or had a higher mental and magical capacity at all.

Hogwarts was raising generations after generations of ignorant wizards and Hermione was shocked to now know she was one of them. The subjects taught to those who attending Hogwarts only made the students skilled in the art of wizardry – as opposed to magic overall as Hermione had once thought.

"Lord Black," Edwin called Sirius. "Could you notify Professor Dumbledore that I will be Harry's attorney for the hearing tomorrow?"

Sirius nodded. "I'll floo him as soon as possible."

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Nicholas and Edwin stayed for only another ten minutes before they had found it had gotten quite late. The Lord Commander had much to do once he portkeyed himself back to the Druid Union Headquarters in Rome, apparently. He had a report due in for the International Confederation and had a slight issue with Croatia's recent victory after Operation Storm – the largest battle seen in Europe since World War II which caused many magical colonies to evacuate their homes and find shelter elsewhere. As far as Nicholas was aware, some of the magical factions had risen in protest of the muggle war, rising up with ideas of revolution and using magic to settle the dispute, despite the clear laws in the Statue of Secrecy that prohibit any such action.

The prince did not envy Edwin's occupation. As Lord Commander of the Druid Union, the man was expected to be a diplomatic individual who always strived for a peaceful solution to whatever conflict he had been called upon to settle. Nicholas had found a long time ago that he was unable to play well with those who were not of an, at least, above average intellect, although he was often reprimanded for this aspect of his personality since he was expected to treat all with dignity as a king should. From what he had learned from Edwin's retelling of experiences, however, Nicholas was highly sure he would not be thrilled to meet the idiots he was sure to encounter sooner or later.

Edwin had insisted on escorting Nicholas back to King Ragnarok's palace. Nicholas was slightly annoyed at this as he knew the man had much work to do before he could sleep tonight. The prince refused to let Edwin past the palace gates, ordering him to go home as soon as he himself stepped inside the golden confines. Nicholas could tell that Edwin was quietly amused at the young prince giving him commands, but little did he know there was a large part of Nicholas that was uncomfortable with speaking to Edwin in this manner. He had pretty much grown up with Edwin being a steady figure of authority in his life, understandable as Edwin was Nicholas's chief mentor. Apart from that, Edwin towered over Nicholas not only in height but in age and experience as well – simply said, Nicholas felt telling Edwin what to do was the same as acting like a dunce and stating the obvious.

The Lord Commander gave his farewells to Nicholas who still stood by the gates, daring Edwin to defy him, and disappeared into thin air with a soft 'pop' – the sure indication of Apparition. Nicholas then turned on the spot and marvelled at the sight before him.

It was not often that Nicholas was able to see the palace in this light. The earlier blue of the sky was replaced with one that was steadily blackening as the seconds passed and the lights of the large manor began to glow, beckoning Nicholas closer as if it was a beacon calling out for him to come home. Approaching closer, the guards patrolling the palace walls and gardens gave Nicholas glances of recognition before allowing him to continue on his way. Growing up, Nicholas had quite a few issues with the goblins on guard duty. They, justifiably, distrusted his very human presence around their king. It was only after many duels and declarations of loyalty that these goblins began to trust him. Nicholas was overjoyed at the physical evidence of their faith in him as some goblins even greeted him upon his entrance into the palace.

About a year ago, Nicholas had realised that, in terms of his rapidly developing height, the manor which served as the permanent residence of King Ragnarok was actually rather small. Nicholas had understood this to be because of the relatively shorter heights of the goblins, but he thanked whoever he could that the royal bloodline for goblins had a specific physical feature which allowed a certain distinction to be seen between the royals and their subjects. Ragnarok was only a few inches shorter than Nicholas and was much taller than those who served, guarded, or advised him. That being said, certain rooms that were only meant for servants had their knobs placed at Nicholas's mid-thigh, with most of these other rooms forcing Nicholas to bow his head before entering through the threshold.

The passageways of the palace were scattered with hundreds of candles lighting the halls as Nicholas aimlessly wandered through them, flickers of light danced in front of him beautifully and reflected against the polished golden trinkets found sitting on the window sills. His footsteps echoed upon contacting the marble floors, but the boy was no longer focused on his surroundings.

His desire to see his guardian and tell him everything that has happened was strong. Nicholas wanted to divulge that, although Ragnarok was rational for advising him to keep his eyes open for others, Edwin had been the one to be right all along.

 _Hermione Granger._

Her name circled through his mind over and over again as his heart pounded loudly in his ears like he had just returned from a sparring session with one of the guards outside. He felt the remnants of her touch on his hand, the warmth throbbing gently as he clutched his hand into a fist, finally being assured.

There in the small room Dumbledore had shown himself and Edwin into, Hermione had sat only a few inches away from him. Her soul called out to his, but Nicholas was also aware of a hint of the impulses Jane Desmond had warned him about slightly blurring his good senses.

Hermione was attractive in a soft manner, there was no denying. When she was talking, her voice was silvery and pleasant. Then, she smiled at him as they spoke while waiting for Edwin and Harry to return from the memories and Nicholas marvelled at the way her smile defined the rest of her features. The creases made from the widening of her mouth accented her heart-shaped face, the crinkles on the corner of her caramel orbs highlighted the gleam of mirth in her eyes themselves and the way one side of her lips was wider than the other gave her the appearance of high intelligence because she looked like she was smirking from a secret she only knew.

Jane and Edwin had once explained to him that the natural urges boys his age would have concerning the female or male, depending on specific preference, population would be increased tenfold for him especially due to the soul bond he shared with the girl they then simply referred to as Lioness. However, despite these warnings, Nicholas did not feel a carnal urge so much as he felt the longing to make a connection.

Indeed, Nicholas could not argue that thoughts about how Hermione's lips appeared to be the softest pair he had ever seen never drifted through his mind. Nevertheless, that did not blind him from the frown she wore on those mentioned soft lips when she was told of the bond. It did not make him unseeing to the level of upset she was in because of him. It did not mean that he wanted to force himself on her if she did not accept him. The very thought revolted Nicholas even more than it did yesterday when he had not even met Hermione. He could not fathom the idea of betraying his honour or the trust Hermione had blessed him with. He was very well aware that she could have left him to the dirt with no chance to be near her, but instead she had been kind to him.

" _I want to know you, Nicholas."_

Nicholas smiled widely in joy upon recalling those wonderful words. Hermione was giving him the opportunity he hoped for, describing how he felt perfectly in her simple statement. For years, Nicholas was only given facts and figures related to Hermione. End of year test scores were sent to the Druid Union, Lord Commander Edwin Desmond keeping true to his word and watching over the girl as best he could, and Nicholas was allowed to have a look and be impressed by them – his interest only increased upon the recognition that he has only known _about_ her since he was eleven, but he did not yet know _her_ as he knew Ragnarok or Edwin or Jane. He wished with all he was to get to know Hermione Granger, the girl behind the highest marks seen in Hogwarts in nearly seventeen years, as a long-lasting companion would.

The prince finally paused in his wanderings around the palace as his feet brought him to the double doors of the goblin king's personal study. Nicholas knocked his knuckles against the door three times before he heard the snarling utterance of, "Come in," and he pushed on the doors so they revealed King Ragnarok sat on his desk with only a few candles still left burning around him, probably because he had blown most of them out himself as he was known to do when it was this late. The steady tick of the grandfather clock to the side of the room was rather noticeable and Nicholas often wondered how Ragnarok had the patience to listen to its constant sound in the background of his thoughts.

Ragnarok had not yet acknowledged Nicholas and he was able to take a small moment to observe the king. In the many years Nicholas spent by his side, Ragnarok had not changed much. The only perceptible sign of a long period of time having passed was the sparse hair that flowed on either side of Ragnarok's head now being further whitened from ageing.

"Well met, Ragnarok," Nicholas finally greeted.

Ragnarok raised his head from the many documents lying neatly in front of him and presented Nicholas with a tight-lipped smile. "Well met, Nicholas," he returned the customary ancient address used to begin conversations between wizarding and goblin royals.

It was not that long ago that Nicholas and Ragnarok had grown closer to each other. Where, at first, they had insisted upon calling each other by their titles, they had now grown an affinity with each other, their close proximity since Nicholas was a child being responsible for this, making it uncomfortable for either to call each other anything apart from their proper names, except when they teased each other.

"Dumbledore has accepted the prophecy you provided I take it," Ragnarok assumed, not yet placing down his quill, but gesturing for Nicholas to seat himself, which he did.

Nicholas nodded. "Yes," he replied. "He gave us the contents of his prophecy and it is much like we suspected. The goblin prophecy is far more detailed, but the wizard seer provided some background that we lacked on the link between Harry Potter and Voldemort."

Ragnarok stared at him curiously. "Indeed?"

The prince hummed in response. "Edwin will give you the full details of that prophecy tomorrow morning."

"Good," Ragnarok said.

About a minute of silence followed as Nicholas allowed Ragnarok to finish his work. The king's quill scratched against his parchment right up until he signed and sealed it with his sigil, two swords crossed within a single flame. When Ragnarok placed the parchment with the drying wax on top of the rest of the pile of documents on his desk, he glanced at the clock to his right. "You were away for quite some time, Nicholas," he said. "I am guessing there was something else that happened."

Nicholas inclined his head back to the king. "Potter was in the safe house when we visited," he answered. "I asked for an audience with him and it became quite clear that Dumbledore had not told him anything regarding his destiny."

"I would not have expected anything more from the old man," Ragnarok growled.

"Edwin was able to watch Harry's memories," Nicholas recounted.

Ragnarok waved his hand indifferently. "He did as we intended and confirmed Voldemort's return; what of it?"

"He was able to work out how Voldemort was able to return," Nicholas said. "Our deductions were correct, Ragnarok. Voldemort made Horcruxes."

The quill that remained in the king's hand snapped.

Nicholas continued, "We were also able to find that a Horcrux dwells in Harry's scar."

"Damn it all," Ragnarok cursed in a low whisper. "Am I to assume your honour caused you offer to remove the dark magic?"

The prince smiled sheepishly. "I am hoping to have it done tomorrow before or after his Disciplinary Hearing."

Ragnarok narrowed his eyes. "There is no need for such a rush, Nicholas," he reprimanded.

"I –" Nicholas hesitated, not knowing if Ragnarok would accept his reasoning. He considered lying, but he felt as though Ragnarok would see through any lie he conjured before he was even able to complete it. With that, he decided to tell the truth, "It has to be tomorrow, Ragnarok. I was told, rather angrily, that it was obvious I had been training, but there was a lack of preparation where the Lioness and Saviour were concerned."

"Who dared to speak to you in that manner?" Ragnarok asked, looking at him disappointedly before he questioned, "And why had you accepted it?"

"Her name is Hermione Granger," Nicholas said, her name falling from his lips easily.

Ragnarok's attention was fully snapped onto Nicholas at that.

He continued, "I had accepted it because she spoke the truth."

The king's eyes were widened and he looked at him searchingly. "Is she . . . your bonded?" he asked with rare gentleness.

Nicholas smiled softly and that was all the confirmation Ragnarok needed. "Yes," Nicholas still said, laughing in delight, with a flow of words that he was unable to halt soon following his declaration, "The light when I saw her was so bright, Ragnarok, you would not believe. There is no uncertainty, she is my bonded and . . . she has accepted me – well, she has, more precisely, accepted friendship with me, but she did not shun me outright which I am glad for."

"Well done, Your Highness," Ragnarok said amusedly.

Nicholas continued, "In truth, I had promised _her_ that she would know everything we know by tomorrow, mostly because she was insistent and . . . frankly, menacing."

Ragnarok barked his amusement. "You were frightened of her?"

He shrugged in reply. "I feel no embarrassment."

The king was grinning until his face abruptly transformed into one Nicholas did not recognise. The goblin king stared at him with a look akin to disgust for a few seconds before he said, "Perhaps you do not feel embarrassed, but I am humiliated to know you allowed a _commoner_ to have demanded anything from you, the future king."

Nicholas narrowed his eyes in a sudden indignant anger, Ragnarok's disdain offending him greatly. "Hermione Granger is the Lioness as well as my soul mate – if there is anything she is not, it is common," he hissed, glaring at his guardian in deep fury.

Ragnarok paused and then gave Nicholas a toothy grin when the prince widened his eyes upon the rapid realisation of how he had spoken to the king. Nicholas furrowed his eyebrows, not comprehending the sudden rage that took over him, but also not understanding why Ragnarok had said what he said when all he had taught Nicholas was to have respect for the commoners as they would be the backbone of his support.

"I apologise," Nicholas said quietly, but his eyes conveyed a look of utter betrayal.

The king shook his head, smiling. "I was testing you, Nicholas," he explained, much to Nicholas's confusion. "I needed to see if the bond had begun to form and it has. Your emotions are beyond your power to control, especially where Granger is concerned, I do not blame you."

Nicholas nodded in gladness for Ragnarok's forgiveness and clarification. There was a moment when Nicholas lost all respect for Ragnarok and his world was shaken to the core.

After a moment, Ragnarok continued, "You have not told me why you believe it would be best to have the Horcrux removed tomorrow, though. I am sure you could tell Granger everything and just wait to tell Potter."

"Hermione and Harry seemed to be quite close friends, Ragnarok," Nicholas stated. "I had the inkling that Harry was the reasoning behind Hermione not accepting enrolment into the Druid Institution. If that is true, then I suspect she would not be able to keep secrets from him – which is why we must ensure Voldemort cannot use any information Harry will know against us."

Ragnarok sighed, shaking his head. "Fine," he said. "You will contact the healers yourself in the morning."

"I intend to," Nicholas responded.

The goblin king leaned back into his large maroon-coloured dragonskin chair. He glanced at Nicholas idly running the fingers of one of his hands on the palm of the other before he smiled. "I had looked forward to the day I would see you besotted with your bonded, though I had never expected it to happen so soon. I blame Jane Desmond for making you a romantic," Ragnarok joked.

"Some people may call it imprudent," Nicholas replied, looking at the hand Hermione had touched.

"Keeping faith in love and the person whom you may come to love is never foolish," Ragnarok assured. "The bond has set the boundaries of what may be, now the rest depends on the both of you."

Nicholas smiled in amusement. "You say that as if you are not aware of the stubbornness in her. I fear I am doomed to living in isolation if she treats me like she had the Druid Institute."

Deep guttural laughs escaped the mouth of the king. He soon settled himself before he said, "Hermione Granger was not destined to attend the Druid Institute; I know because she had chosen to stay at Hogwarts with the Saviour. That was no coincidence, Nicholas. The fates had brought all three of you together today, not by chance, but by destiny," he paused with the appearance of contemplation. "These same fates had preordained the Prince and Lioness to each other before either of you were even born – there is power in that."

"I think the Lioness has enough power of her own to overrule any fate that argues against what she wishes," Nicholas responded.

"Then you know what you must do," Ragnarok professed. "The bond exists between you, but if she was ever to be your lifemate without that connection, she will wish for you the moment she is witness to the baring of your soul."

There was a silence as Nicholas thought about the king's words. Nicholas hesitated before he eventually drew out the courage to ask, "Is that what you did? With Queen Alsea?"

It was apparent that not many people spoke the late queen's name around Ragnarok anymore. His eyes were wide and Nicholas could promise he saw the sorrow in their black depths. The king softened his gaze as he looked upon Nicholas and the prince was glad that Ragnarok was not angered by the question. The goblin eventually answered, voice low, "Yes . . . I did."

Nicholas was content to hear just that, but the king was not yet finished. "Alsea was . . . determined . . . I had heard she had gone so far as to vow she would never fall in love with the king," Ragnarok smiled then, "It was inevitable that I began to pursue her much further, and it was only once I loved her that she began to see me as someone other than the king . . . I think that was when she challenged me to a duel."

"Really?" Nicholas asked, mouth wide in amazement.

Ragnarok's teeth were bared in a melancholic grin as he stared down at the desk before him. "She defeated me – quite badly . . . but if that is what it took for her to keep her vow by making me less of a king, if that is what it took for her to finally accept the regalia . . . I do not desire the duel to have turned out any different," Ragnarok lifted his head and looked straight at Nicholas, "Alsea's loyalty to the crown was unwavering and I have no doubt she respected me as her king, but when she loved me, she loved me as her lifemate – the goblin who revealed his soul so that she may see the individual rather than the monarch."

Nicholas smiled tenderly at the goblin who raised him. "I hope I can have something similar to that."

"Do not wish for the exact same, little prince," Ragnarok advised. "The loss of it all is a pain I do not want you to suffer. I swore to protect my queen with my life – now, I live while she and our children are . . . embers of the light they used to be."

The sorrow in the voice of the king was enough for Nicholas to know Ragnarok's warning was genuine. He could not fathom Ragnarok's pain, no matter how much he tried. Nicholas had never felt the loss of a loved one, and he severely hoped he would never have to.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Hermione laid on her bed at Grimmauld Place, wide awake, listening to Ginny's light snores from across the room. No matter how she tossed and turned and positioned herself, Hermione found that she was not able to chase away her restlessness.

Mrs. Weasley usually sent all the children to bed at promptly ten o'clock, but Hermione and Harry had walked out of the dining room to find it had turned just past eleven-thirty. They were rushed upstairs by the Weasley matriarch who complained about them being allowed to stay up so late, especially with school coming up soon. Her disgruntlement would have increased if she had seen the state of her children who she naively assumed were actually sleeping.

Harry and Hermione were quickly apprehended by the Weasley children who had become aware that both had somehow been allowed to take part in what they presumed was an Order of the Phoenix meeting with Dumbledore. It was rather unfortunate that Harry and Hermione were expressly told not discuss what they had found out with anyone – at least for now. When they told the Weasley's this, there was a reluctant acceptance in all of their faces – all with the exception of Ron.

He had sulked and argued with Harry and Hermione, trying to persuade them by reminding them that he was their best friend, but when his guilt-tripping did not work, the yelling began. Ron's face was red in his anger and Hermione had heard him calling both her and Harry 'traitors' before Harry snapped back in annoyance. The green-eyed wizard was furious as he informed Ron that if there was anyone allowed to be angry, it was him, and he used the summer he spent in isolation as evidence.

Ron spluttered and, unable to argue any further, stormed off.

It was just another burst of Ron's jealousy tantrums, but Hermione was exhausted from putting up with them, especially after the amount of time she spent last year trying to sort out the big row between him and Harry. Hermione was able to see Harry's face while their red-headed friend was yelling at them both and knew that he also felt the same as she did. They were reaching their limit with Ron's child-like tendencies, mostly because they were tired from all they had found out in the last few hours, and they knew they would have much more to deal with as time passed. It was with hope, however, that Hermione thought that Ron only needed to cool off and finally come to understand that they did not have a choice in telling him about the meeting once morning came.

Everyone had shuffled off to their own rooms after the fight. Hermione made her way to the room she shared with Ginny after hugging Harry goodnight, returning his tightened grip on her, sadly knowing today did not help his troubles in the least. Hermione had much to think about, so much had happened and she felt numb and energetic all at once.

On the hand which felt numb from Harry's desperate clutch, her best friend had a piece of the soul of his enemy within the scar on his forehead. Another unknown piece of said enemy's soul must have also existed as it was used to bring back the dark lord. These pieces had to be destroyed if they ever hoped for Voldemort to become mortal and killable once again.

On the other hand which was warm with the echoed remnants of the prince's touch, Hermione saw that between Nicholas and Edwin, the amount of planning that seemed to have been put into the visit assured her that they knew what they were doing and they really wanted what was best for Harry – and herself.

Further into that thought, her intrigue as she listened to Nicholas speaking was increasing gradually. The small insight he had given into his life was enough for her to want to know more. It almost felt like she needed to nourish herself on his company, feeding on whatever he told her about himself, and make herself be closer to him. Hermione attributed this to the bond as she had never felt such an urge with anyone else she had encountered.

The brunette very nearly let out a groan as she turned so she was laying on her side, slamming her head onto the pillow on which it rested.

She felt absolutely pathetic.

Frustration clouded her mind and she wanted to write to her mother or even Daphne to tell them everything that had happened, but knew she could not do so. Hermione closed her eyes again and pondered on how quickly her mind had dissolved into a flurry of rushing thoughts and images after Nicholas had departed – compared to the tranquillity of her thought processes when he was near.

Hermione turned over once again.

 _God help me,_ she thought.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reviewing! I am honestly already astounded by the number of follows on this story, considering the pairing. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, though, or where you personally think I'm heading ;) because I don't think any of you will get it right.**

 **-Guardian.**


	5. The Hearing

**CHAPTER IV – THE HEARING**

Morning dawned quite early for Harry as Sirius shook him awake. The older man urged Harry to get up and hurried him into the bathroom, telling him to get ready because his hearing would be taking place at exactly nine-thirty. When Harry was able to glance at his watch, he saw that it was only a little past seven. He calmly went through the motions of his daily routine: taking a shower, brushing his teeth, getting dressed, and heading down to breakfast whilst allowing his unruly hair to air dry.

The dining room was filled with chatter and people, a fact that was unsurprising. Harry could see that the Advance Guard – the Order of the Phoenix members who had brought Harry to 12 Grimmauld Place – were here with the exception of Kingsley who was notably absent from the group. Tonks, as she had introduced herself, was a clumsy Auror who had taken a liking to Harry – the older woman winked at him teasingly as he approached the table and he was glad that there was someone who was acting relatively normal with him. Glancing over to the seats next to Tonks, Harry saw that both were filled; Moody sitting on one side while, surprisingly, Hermione sat on the other, looking like she had not gotten much sleep in the last twenty-four hours – not that Harry blamed her, of course.

While Harry had been rather horrified to learn everything that he had yesterday, he was as shocked as Hermione to discover that she was bonded by means of her soul to a boy she had not even seen before that day. Harry was aware that Hermione was never really romantically inclined – a fact that now sort of made sense to him – and he felt sympathy for her as he comprehended the information being thrust on her was completely unexpected and even unwanted.

Harry considered what he knew about Hermione from her first boyfriend, if anyone could actually call him her boyfriend, Viktor Krum. They were never an official couple as far as Harry was aware, but it was obvious to Harry that Krum really did fancy her. Hermione only seemed to be uncomfortable around the older seeker, though. Whether that was because of the age difference, the bond which linked her to only Prince Nicholas, or just the fact that she was unaccustomed to receiving that kind of attention from a male, Harry was unsure.

Hermione had denied the bond to Nicholas at first, refusing to believe it. Harry could see it in her eyes, however, that she was slowly making sense of it all as it was happening. Lord Commander Desmond had begun explaining the bond to Hermione and she had calmed slightly from her hysteria – Harry would have suspected Desmond had comforted her before if Hermione had told him that Desmond actually had, a long time ago.

Harry thought of the chances; from everyone Hermione could have possibly been bonded to, it turned out to be the bloody future king. He thought on it for a second more and realised that it was probably _because_ Nicholas was a prince that, above anything else, Hermione had panicked.

He had grasped Hermione's hand in an effort to offer her some kind of comfort. The tight grip she had responded with made Harry's heart clench in compassion and a hint of protectiveness for her. The latter was not necessary, Harry had decided, when he found that the prince's voice, shaking with fearful tremors at the sight of Hermione panicking, had meant that he truly did not want to cause her any more distress.

It was not often that boys around Harry's age were understanding or noble – Harry's mind immediately turned to his cousin Dudley who was often heard talking quite rudely about the pretty blonde neighbour who lived across the road from them. The sound of Piers and Dudley's cruel laughter mingling over the loud crashing of cars on the television as they played on the SNES angered Harry. He narrowed his eyes, indignant at the image of Nicholas ever so much as thinking of talking about Hermione in the manner that his cousin had gloated about the blonde girl.

Approaching the empty seat across from Hermione, Harry pulled out the chair and sat on it before scooting himself forward and tucking the seat back in. Hermione's slightly bloodshot eyes glanced up at him briefly before she returned her blank stare to her half-eaten breakfast. Everyone around them was giving Harry and Hermione sympathetic looks and he wished they could just find it in themselves to stop – it was not like their pity was helping any.

Harry attempted to gain back Hermione's attention, but she seemed intent on keeping her focus on using her fork to push around the sausages on her plate. Eventually, he decided to use a more forceful method as he reached his foot across under the table to knock one of Hermione's slippers from her feet. It worked and she looked up at him tiredly, and Harry lost the words he had meant to say. There was no way he could ask if she was alright when it was so very obvious that she was not. Adjusting accordingly, Harry felt it was his duty to mouth across, "It's going to be alright," in comfort.

The brunette smiled weakly back at Harry, appreciation in her eyes for the gesture, and she mouthed his words right back, and nothing more was needed between them as Harry understood – Hermione was acknowledging him, letting him know that she would support him as much as he would support her.

Breakfast carried on silently after that, with the exception of Tonks attempting to make light of any existing conversations around them, until Harry heard the front door across the hallway being knocked on. It was only a few moments later that Prince Nicholas and Lord Commander Desmond strode into the dining room. Many members of the Order instantly surged to their feet and bowed in respect, Harry and Hermione quickly following suit. After the initial surprise at this kind of welcome for the prince, Harry found that it was not really that shocking. Royals were often treated this way from what Harry had seen of them on the television at the Dursley home. However, Harry could not help but think it was still odd seeing witches and wizards fully garbed in colourful robes bowing instead of muggles with their usual formal wear.

Nicholas nodded his head in acknowledgement and everyone somehow understood this to mean they could sit back down. The prince then approached Harry and Hermione, smiling pleasantly in greeting. Harry glanced over to Hermione momentarily, noticing the glint of gladness in her eyes, and he looked back to Nicholas to see the older boy to be in a similar state of exhaustion as Hermione, indicated by the redness seeping in from the corner of his eyes and the mirrored brightening of his face upon sighting the person with whom he was bonded.

 _Maybe it's the bond that's made them so tired,_ Harry thought absentmindedly.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Another hour had to pass before Mr. Weasley soon joined Harry, Desmond, and Nicholas on their journey to the Ministry of Magic. Harry had questioned why Nicholas was coming, but Desmond had merely told him that it was necessary to ensure the Ministry was aware of his existence.

When Desmond clutched Nicholas' shoulder, Mr. Weasley did the same for Harry and the boy suddenly felt a sensation akin to what he thought it would feel like to have his whole body squeezed through a very small tube. His lungs fell short of breath and his head felt like it would explode from the pressure being applied on it. Harry's feet hit solid ground after a moment and he quickly bent over from the wave of nausea that hit him. He struggled to take deep breaths to control the rise of his breakfast, begging to everything that he would not succumb in the presence of the prince.

Nicholas laughed from next to Harry. "Impressive," he said. "I remember vomiting the first time I was Apparated."

His words successfully made Harry feel slightly less embarrassed.

Harry raised his head to take in his surroundings. They had apparently Apparated in front of a large, red coloured phone box and he worked out that they were in London, Whitechapel if the London Underground on the corner of the street was anything to go by. Nicholas' eyes were darting around in what Harry assumed to be wonder and it was evident that he had not been in the muggle world before.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley called, beckoning Harry towards the phone box until he stepped inside. The eccentric ginger man then inserted some coins, a lot more than necessary, in the slot placed right next to the phone and dialled the numbers '62442,' which directed him to an operator. After an exchange that consisted of Mr. Weasley telling the female operator their names and the business they wished to conduct at the Ministry, a visitor's pass was dispensed through the coin slot for Harry to pin to his shirt. The whole telephone booth shook before it began to descend into the Ministry building, the doors swinging open as soon as the booth landed onto the black tiled floors of the Ministry Atrium.

Crowds of people were rushing about and Mr. Weasley pulled Harry to the side, in the middle of two fireplaces that were regularly depositing Ministry employees out of the explosive green flames the Floo system was known for. Harry watched the telephone box lift up to the surface through a perfect-sized slot in the dark blue ceiling.

About a minute later, Nicholas and Desmond also exited the phone booth and, led by Mr. Weasley, the quartet meandered across the large Atrium to the elevator system that was operational right at the front. As they passed the fountain erected in the middle of the vast hall, Harry took a few seconds to marvel at it; the golden forms of a wizard, witch, centaur, and a house elf were all frozen and seemingly recently polished as they were free from any sort of rust or grime that usually plagued statues made from similar metals in the muggle world.

A snort from beside Harry turned his attention to Nicholas. "The Fountain of Magical Brethren," he scoffed. "It should rather be called the Fountain of Wizarding Supremacy."

Harry stared confusedly at the prince and back to the statue. "But, it shows other magical creatures, not just wizards," he pointed out.

Nicholas shook his head. "Look at it properly," he directed, pointedly glimpsing back at the statues. "You will see the other creatures are looking at the witch and wizard with adoration – also, the wizard is raised on a higher platform than even the witch."

Harry focused back on the statues, keeping in mind what Nicholas said, and saw the prince was indeed correct. The long-bearded elderly wizard in the fountain was shaped to be right in the middle of all the creatures – wand pointed high like it was a trophy – while all the other beings, along with the witch herself, beheld the wizard as if he was the single greatest thing in the universe.

By the time Harry had recognised this, the group had arrived at the elevators. They had to wait a few minutes as it looked like Harry's hearing was taking place at a peak time in the Ministry of Magic. A small crowd was gathered in front of the elevators, wearing their overcoats and carrying their briefcases, waiting their turn to enter and use the contraption to take them to where they needed to go.

Once Harry and his entourage had secured places in their own lift, they were all jerked roughly as the elevator started to rapidly travel upwards. Harry very nearly lost his footing with the unexpected sudden movement, but Nicholas had grabbed him from under his arm and, thankfully, helped him regain his balance.

A tall man with dark skin walked inside the lift when they arrived on 'Level Two – The Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Harry knew the man to be Kingsley Shacklebolt, a member of the Order, and acknowledged that something had happened when Kingsley whispered rapidly into Mr. Weasley's ear. The ginger man's face fell slightly before he briefly smiled at Harry and turned to Desmond. "The timing for the hearing has been altered," he said calmly.

"When is it?" Harry asked before Desmond could say anything.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Right now."

Desmond narrowed his eyes in a small show of anger. "It is illegal to do such a thing without informing the defendant."

"I am not sure what else you expected from a government of criminals, Lord Commander," Nicholas muttered.

The elevator jerked once again, this time taking them down and further away from the surface. It was swift and Harry felt his skin being pulled from the hard descent until the elevator finally stopped and a smooth female voice announced the floor, 'Level Nine – The Department of Mysteries," and all four wizards stepped out while Kingsley remained inside the lift.

This floor was darker than any of the others Harry had passed on his descent. The walls and floors were fully tiled in black, with the only light being emitting coming from torches along the corridor. Mr. Weasley led everyone to a flight of stairs in the corner of the passageway briskly and began to step down them. Plunging further into the Ministry, Harry sensed Nicholas falter by his side and wondered if the prince was as nervous as he was. They reached another corridor containing a series of doors that ended with a large brown door that had a single golden knob right in the middle of it.

At this point, Mr. Weasley wished them all good luck and backed away. Desmond loudly knocked on the door before he pushed it open and let himself in, Harry and then Nicholas following right behind him.

Instantly, Harry was taken aback by the sheer number of people present in the circular room. In the front of the chamber, stands that looked to hold more than fifty people, all of whom were wearing either burgundy or black robes, were placed in a semi-circle with the highest stands being right at the back and decreasing in size with every row until they reached just behind the middle of the chamber. The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had a large seat placed between the halfway-point that divided those wearing black robes with those who wore the burgundy robes, his desk was raised and practically screamed out his authority over the rest of the people in the room.

Voices within the chamber hushed as all eyes turned to Harry and his companions. Minister Fudge, a portly little man with grey hair, was the first to speak up. "Mr. Potter," he addressed, appearing to be rather startled to see him. "I see you were able to get here on time."

It was Desmond who replied, "Well we can count ourselves lucky that we had chosen not to arrive here at the last minute, Minister."

Fudge turned his nose up at Desmond. "And who are you?" he sneered.

There was an abrupt _bang_ from behind Harry and he quickly spun to see Dumbledore walking to the middle of the chamber where Harry was stood, the noise probably coming from the door he had shut on his way in. Harry's mind somewhat relaxed at the familiar sight of the Headmaster.

"Dumbledore!" Fudge exclaimed, looking more nervous.

"Good Morning, Minister," Dumbledore greeted, his deep voice bright and calm. "I would apologise for my tardiness, but it appears someone misinformed me about the timing of this hearing."

"An owl with the notice was sent out this morning," Fudge said timidly.

"I am sure," Dumbledore replied pleasantly. He raised his hand to shake Desmond's before he focused on the Minister once again, "Myself and Lord Commander Desmond will be acting as joint attorney for Mr. Potter today." Gasps and whispers began spreading through the courtroom at his statement.

Fudge slammed his gavel on the sound block placed on the desk in front of him, allowing a resounding _bang_ to reverberate around the room and bring order. His widened eyes focused on Desmond as he coughed, commenting, "L-Lord Commander, I am . . . surprised to see you." Fudge glanced between Desmond, Dumbledore, Harry and those who were sitting around him, unsettled.

"I was surprised myself when the International Confederation urged me to investigate into the account of Dumbledore's dismissal and the alleged miscarriages of power in your justice system, which, they tell me, has been a big problem of theirs for some time now." Desmond's words, spoken orotundly, visibly shook Fudge as Harry could see the Minister beginning to perspire violently. "I had heard about this hearing from a friend of Mr. Potter's and thought it would be best to work as his defence to see your standards of procedure for myself."

"Sure y-you have much b-bigger issue to attend to, Lord Commander," Fudge stuttered.

"Your concern is appreciated, but this takes precedence." Desmond glanced at Dumbledore briefly before he motioned for Harry to walk to the small seat which was placed directly in front of the Minister and in the middle of the chamber, telling him, "Now, Mr. Potter, if you can sit there, the proceedings can begin." The bottom and back of the chair were covered in chains which vibrated ominously as Harry stepped closer to them. They seemed to calm once Harry had sat himself down and he heard Desmond mutter, "Barbaric," to Nicholas who hummed in agreement, walking to the witness stands placed to the side of the courtroom and sitting down on them.

Harry was now in full view of everyone in the Wizengamot. Faces of strangers in either burgundy or black robes stared at him, some in curiosity and some with blatant disgust. He felt like he was on show – that this was all merely a spectacle. In the corner of the bottom row in front of him, Harry could see Ron's older brother, Percy Weasley, acting like he had never seen Harry before in his life, taking more interest in the parchment he was holding.

Moments passed in silence as everyone settled. Desmond had gotten impatient waiting for the Minister to speak and questioned, "What are the charges?"

Fudge jumped, pulling the spectacles that were hanging around his neck onto his face and reading from the piece of parchment laying on his desk, "Harry James Potter – resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey – knowingly and in full awareness of the unlawfulness of his action, produced a Patronus Charm in the presence of a muggle in a muggle-inhabited area. This, as we all should be aware, is a direct offence of paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also section thirteen of the International Confederation's Statute of Secrecy. Does the defendant deny this?"

In the last thirty minutes or so before Mr. Weasley arrived to escort them to the Ministry, Desmond had quickly educated Harry in the gestures he might have to give Harry during the hearing. Harry was advised not to speak unless he was indicated to do so by Desmond, and he was told that he should answer with nothing but the truth since he was not in the wrong.

With that in mind, Harry noticed the small nod Desmond gave to him to answer the question.

"No, I don't," Harry said.

Fudge continued, "Were you aware that it is illegal to use magic outside the barriers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Again, Desmond nodded at Harry.

"Yes," Harry answered, trying with all his might not to shout out the reasoning as to why he had to use it.

Fudge's chest slightly puffed out and he looked like one of those pigeons that he saw on the surface of Whitechapel, plump from all of the junk left from tourists. He peered around at the people near him in amusement. "Wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, I do not see any reason for Mr. Potter to use such a spell in a muggle area. He had violated laws he knew existed for his own safety as well as the safety of others, therefore –"

Dumbledore's voice overruled the Minister, "I am sure you have the full intention of asking the defendant why he had felt he needed to use the charm."

Desmond took advantage of Fudge's slight hesitance to add, "A defendant has the right to be given the chance to present his case per the Wizards Right Act of 1897 and also your own Wizengamot Charter of Rights."

A woman wearing a monocle, who appeared to be a little under forty years of age, sitting directly beside Fudge, spoke up, her blue eyes were coated with barely masked frustration as she gave a brief look of annoyance to the Minister, "Mr. Potter is well within his rights to present his case, of course," her voice circled through the chamber firmly.

Fudge laughed unsurely. "Thank you, Madam Bones," he said quickly, like he was scared she would say more. "He may present his case," Fudge allowed, peeking around at the Wizengamot shuffling in their seats.

Desmond smiled at Harry and nodded pointedly.

Harry then explained, "The only reason I used my Patronus was because of the Dementors that attacked me."

There were laughs from several people around the room. Fudge shook his head while smiling condescendingly at Harry. "There can be no Dementors in the muggle districts of Britain," he said.

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Then I am sure you will have no trepidations in allowing us to present you his memory of the event."

Fudge widened his eyes. "We – we don't have the resources available for memories to be displayed."

"That is shocking, Minister. Every magical justice system in Europe is required to have a pensieve on hand at all times," Desmond admonished, shaking his head in disappointment. "No matter, I have a pensieve of my own that you may use."

With that, Dumbledore stepped back slightly while the Lord Commander reached into his pocket and pulled out a miniature bowl from his pocket, enlarging it as he kept it levitated in the air. Desmond took out a second object from his formal overcoat's pocket which Harry recognised as the vial that contained some of the smoky-white substance he had extracted from Harry's mind earlier in the morning. He poured it into the bowl and the smoke instantaneously rose above the basin and spread into a large cloud in the middle of the courtroom.

"For the benefit of the court scribe," Desmond narrated, "evidence – memory of one Harry James Potter from the 2nd of August, 1995."

The memory then played and lasted for about five minutes as the court viewed it in relative silence. It faded with the arrival of Mrs. Figg, the squib who escorted Harry back to the Dursley's after the Dementor attack, and the Wizengamot's voices raised in uproar. A stout and haughty-looking woman who much resembled a toad as she sat on the other side of Fudge jumped to her feet. Her voice was high and sickly-sweet as she demanded to know, "How can you prove this memory is not falsified?"

"I have a witness who can affirm the truth of the memories," Dumbledore said brightly. "I asked her to remain outside – shall I fetch her?"

Madam Bones sighed loudly, taking off her monocle and letting it drop to the table in front of her. "Quickly, Dumbledore," she said, leaning over to Fudge and whispering in his ear, meaningfully glancing at both Desmond and Dumbledore. The Minister seemed to be taking in her words and, with his eyes drooping to the floor like a puppy who had been reprimanded for eating out of the rubbish, appeared to be quite regretful.

Dumbledore's footsteps echoed on the floor as he walked to the door and mumbled something before he stepped back in with Mrs. Figg shuffling nervously behind him; the door shutting behind her with a _thud._ Desmond conjured a chair next to Harry for the woman and gave her a smile as she sat, causing two patches of red to grow on her cheeks as she coyly thanked him.

"What is your full name?" Bones asked, apparently taking the lead in the interrogations.

Mrs. Figg fidgeted at the edge of her seat and answered quietly, "Arabella Doreen Figg."

"What is your relation to Mr. Potter?"

"I live near him in Little Whinging," Mrs. Figg replied.

Fudge interrupted any further questioning from Bones, excitedly claiming, "There are no records of any other witches or wizards living in Little Whinging."

"I'm not registered – I'm a squib," she huffed.

The Minister clenched his teeth. "And squibs just so happen to be able to see Dementors, don't they?" he muttered angrily. "You will leave the information of your parentage with my assistant."

Bones' expression was impartial as she carried on, "Can you describe the events that occurred on the 2nd of August?"

Mrs. Figg coughed slightly before she began, "Well . . . I was getting cat food from the corner shop when I heard some shouting from the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. I went closer to see what was happening and I saw two of them – the Dementors – flying towards the boys." The woman's face paled in memory of the creatures, reminding Harry of just how horrible they were. Her voice quivered as she said, "Everything was cold . . . it was summer and everything was so _cold._ I remembered horrid things and . . . I felt like I couldn't ever be happy again . . ."

"What did the Dementors do to the boys?" Bones inquired.

With an air of her words being rather rehearsed, Mrs. Figg replied, "They flew towards them; one of the boys fell to the ground while Harry tried to fight them. He attempted to produce a Patronus twice before he finally casted a corporeal one on his third attempt. He drove away the Dementor that was pinning him down and then pointed his wand to his cousin to get his Patronus to drive that Dementor away too."

Bones remained silent for a few seconds, looking down at Mrs. Figg. "And is that _exactly_ what happened?" she ultimately asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Figg answered.

Madam Bones nodded in acceptance, turning to Fudge and noticeably narrowing her eyes. Harry reckoned she must have a whole lot of contempt for Fudge to keep looking at him like that – the thought almost made him laugh. "Minister Fudge, I would like to give the witness leave – if you do not have any further questions to ask," she said.

"Yes – yes," Fudge responded dazedly, telling Mrs. Figg, "You may leave."

Desmond gave Mrs. Figg his hand and escorted the old lady out of the courtroom. Her feet normally shuffled at a leisurely pace, but Harry could have sworn she was going even slower as she hung on the arm of the Lord Commander. The door opened and shut once again as Desmond returned to his place beside Harry and regarded Fudge with expectancy.

"We have a piece of evidence – Potter's memory – that shows the presence of Dementors in Little Whinging and a witness who testified the events exactly as they were shown in the memory," Bones said pointedly to Fudge.

There was a girlish cough from the toad woman that begged all the attention onto her. "I hope, Madam Bones, you are not supporting this claim of Dementors being present in a muggle area. The Ministry of Magic is solely responsible for the actions of all Dementors in British Domain, which would mean that you are inadvertently asserting the Ministry had issued an attack on Mr. Potter."

"That would be a most curious thought, Senior Undersecretary," Bones responded, giving her a tight-lipped smile. "It is also, however, beside the point that two Dementors have been explicitly proven to have been present in Little Whinging. Consequently, Mr. Potter acted completely within his rights stated clearly in clause seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery which allows a wizard or witch to use magic before muggles in exceptional circumstances such as when their life is in danger."

A hint of amusement in Desmond's voice was heard by Harry as he reviewed, "Dumbledore and I have proven that Harry James Potter acted completely within the capacity of the law, in self-defence, and should be found not guilty for charges pressed against him – and I am hoping the matter of the Dementors presences will be investigated."

"Rest assured, Lord Commander, I will be investigating quite thoroughly," Madam Bones glanced discreetly at the Senior Undersecretary before she continued with a booming voice, "All those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges against him?"

Many hands from the members of the Wizengamot raised – including Madam Bones' hand. Harry noticed how many more hands raised right after Bones put her hand up and he pondered over exactly how much influence she had on the Wizengamot.

The hands all lowered after about ten seconds where Madam Bones then asked, "Those in favour of conviction against the accused?"

Considerably lesser hands raised this time, but Minister Fudge, who had been silent for quite some time, raised his hand, followed by some others. Happily, Harry saw that the people who thought he was innocent had the majority. Fudge gripped the gavel in front of him and raised it slightly before grudgingly declaring, "Cleared of all charges." He brought the gavel down with a _bang,_ which resounded as a note of reluctant finality.

Harry grinned in relief, looking between Desmond, Dumbledore, and finally, Nicholas who returned his beam and raised his eyebrows in mischief, indicated with his eyes for Harry to look back to Desmond. At that moment, Harry was reminded that Nicholas and Desmond had planned to do a whole lot more than just get Harry cleared.

The Lord Commander lifted his hand when everybody began to speak to each other; and others moved to leave the chamber. His signal gained everybody's attention easily and the robed wizards and witches waited for him to speak, which he did. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, I ask for some more of your time, if you please," Desmond gestured at the vacated stands and he was met with almost immediate obedience as those who were standing sat back down in their old positions.

"Now," Desmond started, "I have many important matters to discuss with you regarding the position of Britain on the International Confederation of Wizards. There are those who believe Britain, being one of the leading powers in the Wizarding World, had become a great danger as the claims of the return of a dark lord have been met with contempt and malice for those making the claims rather than any sort of investigation into why they would make such declarations." Many members of the Wizengamot shuffled uncomfortably, most notably Fudge himself. Desmond continued, "It is quite fitting that both of the people who claim the return of the Dark Lord are in this room today," he glanced happily between Harry and Dumbledore, "I am obliged to interrogate the witnesses in front of the Wizengamot as representative of the International Confederation."

"That won't be necessary," Fudge quickly protested, "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be able to conduct any investigation the Confederation has ordered." He quickly indicated Madam Bones who promptly ignored his silent call for support, acting like she did not see Fudge.

"Unfortunately, I was expressly told that I must conduct it myself," Desmond responded, facing Harry and Dumbledore. "If you can seat yourself, Professor Dumbledore, I will be asking both you and Mr. Potter a series of questions regarding the supposed return of Voldemort."

Dumbledore's eyes danced with mischief as he suggested, "I would think an extraction of memories would serve well as testimony for Mr. Potter."

Desmond raised both of his eyebrows, focusing back to the Wizengamot, asking, "Any objections?"

Minister Fudge protested loudly indeed, his voice quivered and he exclaimed, "T-This is absurd, Lord Commander! A waste of valuable Ministry time, I tell you!"

"Some may say a Wizengamot trial – with all members present, may I add – in which the defendant sits in the High Court like a serial killer for the simple breach of underage magic is a waste of valuable Ministry time," Desmond replied and Harry noticed the side of Madam Bones' lips turn up faintly at the Lord Commander's words. "The safety of the British people is where your time _should_ be placed . . . and it just so happens that this concerns the safety of the British people." Desmond paused for a few moments, staring at Fudge, letting his words sink in. He then turned back to Harry, lifting his wand up to the boy's forehead and stating clearly, "Memories being extracted directly from the witness."

Desmond gave Harry an inconspicuous nod, letting him know that he was not required to do anything. Harry felt the tip of Desmond's cold wand gently touch the side of his forehead and he suddenly heard the Lord Commander's voice in his mind, _"You have done well, Harry. I am sorry I must make you live through this once again."_

It was strange; Desmond's voice was disembodied, ghost-like, and softer than his usual tone. Through this, Harry resisted the urge to smile at the praise the man gave him and his returning thoughts reflected his gratefulness, _"Thank you, Lord Commander. And it's alright – I know this will help the Ministry stop denying what's happening around them."_

Outwardly, Desmond gave him an apologetic smile _. "I would not be too sure about that,"_ he replied.

Before Harry could question what he meant, Harry felt the familiar sensation of Desmond finding the memory he was searching for and grasping it; Desmond pulled it to the forefront of his mind and positioned it so that it was drawn to the side where his wand was still positioned. Gently retracting his wand with all the grace and steady hands of a heart surgeon, Desmond pulled the memory out from Harry's mind. The sensation was similar to what Harry imagined it would be like to remove a worm from his head, the weight of the recollection being lifted as it was completely removed from him, leaving Harry somewhat light-headed. Harry whirled his head to look at the thin, white, glowing thread hanging from the point of Desmond's wand in interest, amazed that the proof of the return of Voldemort was right there in a physical form.

Desmond jerked his wand, releasing the thread from its attachment to the wand and it remained suspended in the air. The Lord Commander urged the string into the pensieve bowl which had lowered to just above the floor. Once again, it released a cloud of smoke that rose into the air and created the sort of experience Harry associated with watching the television.

The vision began and enraptured all who had not seen it before, including Dumbledore who leaned forward in interest. They all saw Harry Potter and the late Cedric Diggory arrive at a graveyard and heard a chilling voice demand, _"Kill the spare!"_

There were gasps from many in the audience when they recognised Peter Pettigrew, someone who was most probably familiar to them because of the memorial made and placed in the Ministry Atrium for him, in remembrance of his 'sacrifice' fifteen years ago that led to the notorious Sirius Black being captured and imprisoned for the betrayal of Lily and James Potter as well as the murder of twelve muggles. A lot of the Wizengamot grew further shocked when the very much alive Pettigrew pointed his wand at Cedric and killed him stone dead before turning his wand to Harry, casting several binding hexes which tied the young wizard to a gravestone. Everyone continued to watch as the ritual began and some had to turn away at the sickening sight of Pettigrew slicing his hand clean off his body in sacrifice.

Another few minutes had to pass before the horrid form of Voldemort finally appeared to nothing but silence from the Wizengamot. As his tiny body was dropped into the sizzling cauldron, there were some members of the Wizengamot who had gasped in fear. Then – as Voldemort rose out of the cauldron in a ball of black smoke which cleared to reveal a brand new body, two slits for a nose on a ghostly pale face, and angry red eyes – the screams of horror that were heard in the courtroom startled Harry.

Voldemort's raspy speech was upsetting as he praised his servant, pulling Pettigrew's hand, the one that was not cut off, towards himself and tapped his wand upon the Dark Mark found on it. The Dark Lord's call was answered and many Death Eater's arrived. The removal of Lucius Malfoy's mask drew gasps of shock as people listened more intently to the conversation between the elder Malfoy and Voldemort where the latter was scolded for his cowardly behaviour in the past.

Once the confrontation between Harry and Voldemort was over, and Harry landed back at the Quidditch Pitch with Cedric's body, the memory finally faded out and the fog of Harry's memory ebbed away to nothing. Amongst the sheer silence of the discoveries, Madam Bones took action and angrily called out to the Aurors stood at either side of the Wizengamot, "Arrest Lucius Malfoy! Now!"

Moving to do as she asked, they were only halted by the Minister. "Overruled!" Fudge shouted. "We don't yet know if the memories are real, Madam Bones."

Bones narrowed her eyes. "They still warrant an investigation –"

"No, they do not!" Fudge interrupted. "They're lies, all lies. Potter is –"

"Lord Commander!" Madam Bones' voice rung over Fudge's as she turned and asked Desmond, "Were there any signs of the memories being tampered with?"

The Wizengamot all concentrated their attention to Desmond who pretended to contemplate for a few seconds, Harry reckoning he was doing so to avoid there being any suspicions of him answering too quickly. "No," he answered after a moment. "The memories were not foggy and they ran without any distortions or time lapses."

Fudge's face was turning red and veins were popping from his forehead. "That doesn't prove that the boy hasn't altered his memories!" he yelled.

"I do not deny that," Desmond said calmly.

Harry's eyes snapped to Desmond in confusion and felt betrayal, having thought he had believed Harry about Voldemort.

Madam Bones irately slammed her hands down on the table before her. "Lucius Malfoy is a person of interest as long as the evidence that shows him so is not proven to be altered," she fumed, turning to the Aurors once again and barking at them, "Now arrest him!"

The Aurors promptly ran past the seated Harry and left the courtroom to do as they were bid, conducting the arrest. There was a part of Harry that was pleased to know that the elder Malfoy was, most likely, going to be interrogated – and, hopefully, get sent to Azkaban.

"Madam Bones!" Fudge shouted, standing to his feet in an attempt to tower over the woman.

Bones swiftly followed suit and also stood, her significantly taller height backing her dominance along with her icy words, "Tell me why you are so sure that the memories are faked, Minister? What evidence do you have? What experience over my own observational skills that have made me the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement makes your claims superior to my own – or even the Lord Commander's who we all know has exceptional capability in lawful principles."

Desmond nodded appreciatively at Bones when she glanced at him.

Fudge gestured wildly at Dumbledore. "Dumbledore's always been after my job, everybody knows –"

"I don't care what everybody knows!" Bones yelled, her angry movements allowing some tendrils of her chestnut hair fly free from her neat bun. "I want to know what categorically leads you to believe the memories are faked."

The Senior Undersecretary joined the two already standing, shrilly snapping, "I would remind you that you are speaking to the Minister for Magic, Madam Bones!"

"And I would remind you _both_ that any matters of law are my _responsibility_ ," Madam Bones retorted harshly, her teeth gritted. "Right now, all I see from these memories is no reason why Harry Potter would know what Peter Pettigrew, a man who supposedly died fifteen years ago, looks like."

"He may have found a picture of Pettigrew!" Fudge attempted to reason. "It is no secret that James and Lily Potter were friends with Pettigrew."

Harry had to admit that this was the single most acceptable thing Fudge had said in this whole hearing.

Bones shook her head. "Then why does the memory show Pettigrew to clearly be in his late-thirties? How can a fifteen-year-old boy know how to fake memories so well that he had been able to successfully imagine a man's weight gain and grey hair accurately?" Her snarled words caused Fudge to sink into his seat just to create some distance between him and her piercing gaze.

Fudge spluttered, "He – Potter's had help from Dumbledore and Lord Desmond."

"Where is your evidence?" Bones questioned sharply.

The Minister had no answer and Harry observed amusedly that he was looking more like an injured puppy as the seconds ticked by.

Bones continued, "We were presented these memories by the Lord Commander of the Druid Union who took the liberty to extract them with all of us as his witness. Let me make this clear, if you do not think that the memories are legitimate, you will do so at your own peril – you are warned that you will be insulting the capabilities of the Druids, and to insult the Druids would be to greatly offend the International Confederation." She regarded almost everybody with a level of disdain that made Harry wonder why she worked here if she did not like them.

"Scrimgeour," Madam Bones called to a man sitting across to her right, a few seats down. He had bushy eyebrows and looked rather rugged with his yellowish-brown hair and prominent frown. "It was Aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt who were leading the Sirius Black case, wasn't it?"

Harry's head snapped up at the mention of his godfather's name. Excitement built in him at the realisation that it was being said in a court of law and he impulsively located the man Bones was talking to by following her line of sight, wanting to focus copiously on the conversation.

"Yes," Scrimgeour said simply.

"Then gather whatever files you have on him; the original transcripts of his court hearings especially," Bones directed, about to turn back to the Minister.

Scrimgeour frowned. "We do not have the transcripts of the court hearings, Madam Bones."

Bones slowly faced Scrimgeour again, her face lit with outrage. "What?" she hissed. "Why not?"

"I'm afraid I do not know, Ma'am," he replied, seemingly indifferent to Bones' increasing ire.

"Do not – you _do not know?_ " Bones repeated his words, her scowl clearly displaying her disgust.

He rolled his eyes. "I was not in office at the time of his capture – just like you."

Bones narrowed her eyes at him before quickly casting her eyes to Fudge. "Well then," she raised her eyebrows at him, "Minister, you will allow your memories of the trial to be extracted."

"W-What?" Fudge stuttered.

"You were working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes; you were the first person to arrive on scene after the alleged murder of Peter Pettigrew," Bones said slowly, acting like Fudge was completely stupid. "I am assuming you were present for his trial."

 _I suppose you could say that if the trial happened in his imagination, Madam Bones,_ Harry thought with a grimace.

Fudge widened his eyes, stammering out, "I – That's not – I wasn't –"

Bones glared at the pathetic man. "You haven't the right to refuse me, Minister. I have the authority to issue and retract the warrants."

Beside Harry, Desmond quickly whispered something to Dumbledore who frowned at him and grabbed him by the arm, shaking his head, trying to stop Desmond from doing something – a warning that the Lord Commander wholly ignored. "Madam Bones," Desmond called her attention to him, continuing once she acknowledged him, "I believe I can offer you some information on Sirius Black's trial."

Bones spread her arms out in a mockingly eager gesture. "I would love to hear anything right now, Lord Commander."

Desmond raised an eyebrow at the younger woman. "I came across this only recently, but it appears that Sirius Black had not been given a fair trial – in fact, he was not given a trial at all."

Her mouth dropped open in shock and she snapped her eyes to Fudge. "Is that true?"

"I – I don't know," Fudge replied, about ready to cry. "I – I only testified with my memory of the capture – I wasn't p-permitted clearance for anything else –"

Fudge flinched when Madam Bones brought her hands out in front of her, clawed and juddering in aggression. Her eyes were wild as she stared at Fudge with a gaze close to hatred; Harry actually thought she might strangle the Minister for Magic until she took a deep breath through her nose, lowered her hands, and turned back to the Lord Commander. "How did you come across this information?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her question.

Desmond's response was blunt and shocking, "When Sirius Black had proved it to me himself."

The noise level grew rowdy in a matter of seconds; many had begun to shout and even jeer – Harry was surprised at how animalistic these people could be. There was a _boom_ followed by another _bang_ which silenced everyone and brought their attention to Madam Bones who had her wand pointed high into the air, the living image of the powerful wizard in the Fountain of Magical Brethren, smoke blowing from the point of her wand just like how water poured from the wand of the wizard's statue. "You know where he is?" Bones asked and, for a single fleeting moment, Harry detected a single inflection of hope from the slight softening of her voice.

"I do," Desmond answered.

Bones faltered slightly. "And he's – you claim that he's innocent?"

"I do," Desmond repeated.

Harry felt the need to speak up for Sirius. "He _is_ innocent, Madam Bones," he said, and stressed, "Sirius wasn't the Secret Keeper for my parents, Worm – _Pettigrew_ was."

Bones stared at him in surprise, her blue eyes searching his intensely, but Harry did not avert his gaze no matter how intimidated he felt. "What you just said is very serious, Mr. Potter," Bones emphasised. "Why do you believe he was not the Secret Keeper?"

Harry glanced over to Desmond who nodded at him, allowing him to take a deep breath and admit, "I met Sirius at the end of my third-year. He confronted Pettigrew who confessed he was the one to betray my parents and kill those twelve muggles, framing Sirius for it all."

Madam Bones' face scrunched in what Harry thought to be remorse before her face cleared of all expression, making Harry doubt the emotion was even there in the first place. "Are you in contact with him at the moment?" she questioned, tiredly placing her hands on top of the table in front of her, lowering her head, and leaning against it wearily.

Another nod from Desmond let Harry reply, "Yes."

"You have claimed innocence for your godfather, which counts as ground for a full investigation, especially due to the lack of trial that was given to him in the first place –" Bones cast a sharp look at Fudge, "Tell Siri – Black – that the Ministry is willing to give him an unbiased trial –"

"I am prepared to escort him to the Ministry myself, Madam Bones," Desmond interjected. "Will a week from now be a suitable day for the trial?"

"Yes, that will be fine," Bones granted.

Desmond glanced at Dumbledore as he informed, a hint of a question in his tone, "I will be acting as Lord Black's attorney." Dumbledore's nod was all the Lord Commander seemingly needed as he turned back to the rather quiet Fudge. "Do you approve of the proceeding, Minister?"

The combination of the expectant manner of the question, as well as the number of heads that turned to the Minister for his answer, caused Fudge to nod frantically. "Y-Yes – the trial of S-Sirius Black – in a week." The words uttered from the mouth of the Minister triggered excitement in Harry. It bubbled in him with delight, knowing that the trial would allow Sirius to prove himself innocent and that once Sirius was deemed a free man, he would be in a much better position to look after Harry. Privet Drive would become a distant memory as Harry could live with Sirius at Grimmauld Place.

"Very good," Desmond said. "What is your verdict on the return of Lord Voldemort?"

Fudge choked and was about to rise from his seat in indignant rejection of the very idea, but he was halted by Madam Bones' hand which gestured for him to remain seated. "I am afraid –" those words were all that were really needed for Harry's hope in the Ministry to deflate, "– there is not enough conclusive evidence for it to be sensible to cause a nationwide panic," Bones rationalised, shrugging slightly in apology.

"Understandable, Madam," Desmond concurred.

Bones nodded gratefully. "Right now, I will be placing the D.M.L.E. on high alert and Lucius Malfoy will be interrogated about his whereabouts on the 24th of June, and any evidence collected in that time up to the Black Trial will be taken into account before anything is announced outside of the Wizengamot." Her voice was strong and poised, and Harry wondered why she could not be Minister instead. Though he was still angered by their delaying the acknowledgement of Lord Voldemort's return, Harry had to admit that, in a few simple sentences, Madam Bones alone had marginally bettered Harry's view of the Ministry as he now saw that incompetency was not necessarily a job requirement when working here.

"I thank you for your time," Desmond said appreciatively, "but there is one more thing . . ." Trailing off, Desmond swivelled his head to Nicholas who had remained seated at the witness stands for the duration of the proceedings. Harry's searching of Nicholas' face found the little wince on his face at the address, but it vanished as soon as it appeared, replaced by a look of dispassion.

Amongst the silence and amongst the curious gazes of the Wizengamot, Nicholas stretched his legs out to stand and step down from the stands. He sauntered gracefully, his footsteps hardly making any noise, to the middle of the courtroom; in front of Harry and facing the Minister.

There was a moment where Harry had thought Nicholas would greet the people he was facing, but, it turned out, he was not one to conduct or take part in meaningless chit-chat. The prince cleared his throat and started, "I, Nicholas of the House Westerly, hereby declare my rightful claim by blood and magic to the Crown of Avalon in the presence of the High Court." Harry did not understand much about the need for the words being spoken, all he knew was that Nicholas' voice was ringing and the sudden wind that began channelling around the prince accentuated the importance of them. A gradual glow from beneath him urged Harry to turn his attention to the floor of the courtroom, or rather, the rounded perimeter around Nicholas which had begun to light up with runic symbols. Nicholas lifted his hands and spread them outwards as the circle of runes only grew brighter.

Harry, confused and a bit concerned, looked around himself with anxiety. The members of the Wizengamot were all viewing the occurrence in shock, their mouths thrown wide; some in amazement, while others in horror – Minister Fudge himself was quivering in his seat as he watched Nicholas with nothing but the greatest fear in his eyes, reflected to Harry from the radiance that now completely enveloped Nicholas in its vividness. Harry did not see or hear an inch of pain from Nicholas, and he was well aware that this light was nothing like the one that had grown from the handshake Hermione and Nicholas had shared; it was harsher, releasing an extreme warmth which reminded Harry of the heavy heatwave that tortured him earlier in the summer.

Harry brought his hand up to his eyes to block out the brilliance, tilting his head to the left and watching as Dumbledore did the same thing, the gust causing the Headmaster's silver hair and robes to billow backward, making him look like a parody of a superhero from one of Dudley's many comics.

The glow remained steady for about a minute, but then the radiance began to rise in intensity once again, growing and growing like a wildfire until it released a strong shockwave that knocked Harry further into his seat, the chains below the armrests rattling raucously as the rest of the Wizengamot were also backed into their stands in varying states of disorder.

While Harry attempted to gain back his bearings, he saw the runes and the light that had come with them had stopped glowing. However, the runes seemed to have burnt themselves into the courtroom floor as they did not fade. To Harry's right, Desmond gripped the edge of the chair Harry was on and used it as leverage to lift himself back to his feet, it being apparent that the Lord Commander had been sent unceremoniously to the floor because of that last shockwave. Harry chanced a look back at Dumbledore who, like Desmond, was righting himself, all the while staring unblinkingly at Nicholas. Following suit, Harry surveyed the prince himself, spotting a small glint of gold on his left hand that had not been there before. Scrutinising it closely, Harry was able to work out that Nicholas now wore a golden signet ring on his smallest finger of his left hand. Harry was unable to distinguish what was on it because the prince was still faced forward.

Slowly, the shock of what had transpired steadily wore off all those who spectated and, gradually, they looked to their leader – the Minister for Magic – for guidance. Fudge, though, did not appear to be ready to react just yet as he was still staring at Nicholas with fear etched on his face – Harry was almost worried it would become Fudge's permanent expression.

After a few beats, Fudge finally spoke, addressing Nicholas with his stumbling words, "You are an – _the_ heir . . . to the throne."

"I am relatively aware," Nicholas responded in a deadpan, bringing his left hand to his eye-level, flexing it while feeling his new ring with his right hand in interest.

Fudge abruptly shook his head in refusal to accept what was just confirmed to him. "No, you are not!" he yelled. "The royal line has been dead for centuries, boy!"

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "Really?" he drawled.

"This is Dumbledore's trickery," Fudge threw accusing eyes to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "I know what you're trying to do, Dumbledore. Thought you could get one of your pets from Hogwarts to come and perform this hoax, did you?" The Minister was trembling and turning purple.

Dumbledore's soothing words pleaded with Fudge, "I am not involved, Cornelius. The level of magic we just witnessed is beyond any creature alive or dead – it cannot be faked – the Nexus is restored and I know you can feel it."

Desmond joined in with Dumbledore, "Minister, I am sure you are aware that those runes," he indicated the symbols at Nicholas' feet, "mark the reinstating of the Sovereign Nexus; they have identified Prince Nicholas as the heir – this is not a ruse."

The imploring of both Dumbledore and Desmond which begged Fudge to stop digging his own grave did not matter, the paranoid man refused to see reason even when it was so blatantly presented to him. Fudge's tremulous voice matched his timorous form. "No, I won't allow this!" he said. "The Wizengamot and Minister have full-power. The Ministry has modernised past the need for a monarch _and_ the Nexus –"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Cornelius, you are being foolish –"

Fudge responded hysterically, "Foolish, am I –"

" _Yes_ ," Dumbledore cut in sharply. " _Any_ magical government formed in the British Isles simply _cannot_ modernise past the need for the complete Nexus, past the need for a _monarch_ ," he emphasised.

"I refuse to bow to a schoolboy, Dumbledore!" Fudge faced Nicholas and declared patronisingly, "You will have no authority over me."

The temperature in the room fell and Harry figured Nicholas did not appreciate Fudge's tone. Nicholas straightened his back and crossed his hands behind him, casting Fudge a hard, icy stare; his piercing silver eyes boring into the Minister. "I do not need to remind you, Minister, that this government was only created because the very first Wizengamot was able to gain access to my ancestor's riches – all done before the sanctioned fifteen years where all accounts should have been frozen had even passed. You live on the greed of your ancestors who breached their own laws to reap the benefits of illegal power and wealth . . ." Nicholas glanced around him in revulsion. "Gringotts representatives have reliably informed me that I am in the position to persecute the violations made against my lineage – if I choose to do so, I will single-handedly bankrupt every member of the Wizengamot and the rest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families; Magical Britain's economy will halt and you will be thrown into an economic depression unlike anything seen since the Witch Hunts."

Nicholas took a few steps forward, his movements slow and effective in inciting an almost instinctual fright in nearly everybody watching, until he was standing just under the Minister for Magic's raised platform, lifting his head up to stare the man down. "Let me make this very clear, Fudge: You will either willingly make your Oath of Allegiance, declaring me your Crown Prince to the wizarding public – or you can watch as I cripple this government until you _surrender_ me my birthright."

Dumbledore spoke then, attempting to diffuse the situation, "Your Highness, I don't –"

Nicholas threw Dumbledore a sharp glare that silenced him. The prince's voice was deep and firm as he stated, "I am the future king and I do not care if you like it or not." He glowered at everyone in the courtroom, bar Harry and Desmond, and went on to rant, "You have all taken turns in finding every possible opportunity to better your own positions and make yourselves feel more superior – whether that is against other creatures, others born of different blood status, or even those who had been born with the same blood status, but had been deemed traitors – all the while the rest of the world _mocks_ us like we are greatest fools in the world!"

Many people in the burgundy robes flinched as if Nicholas had found each of them with their hands in the cookie jar and was now telling everyone about their impish behaviour.

"I will not stand by and merely wait for you to bring this country to ruin – not when I have the power to change it all and bring prominence back to Britain." Nicholas faced Fudge once again, "And I am indifferent to how I will do it, Minister. I may dissolve the current government using financial means and then fashion another in my own taste – _or_ you can keep your current position and bend the knee to me so we may work together to restore this country to one that will no longer be the subject of laughter . . . I shall give you two minutes to decide whether you want Britain to be a kingdom ruled by a just king and his government – or a dominion ruled by a single dictator, reigning as a king anyway – Merlin knows you will need to make the correct choice today, Fudge."

The tension in the room was reaching its peak; members of the Wizengamot shuffled and feverishly turned to the Minister, trying to indicate to him what they thought he should do, telling him he needed to listen to Nicholas. It was quite clear that no one was willing to risk Nicholas carrying through with his threat, not even Dumbledore who had rushed forward to Fudge and hurriedly whispered up to him.

Nicholas turned about and walked towards Harry. Faced away from the gawking stares of the Wizengamot, Nicholas smiled at Harry and broadened his amusement into a grin when he caught Desmond's eyes. The Lord Commander, Harry noticed, was trying very hard not to laugh; he was struggling to keep his face neutral and his chest shook from suppressed mirth. Nicholas reached the chair Harry was on and chose to seat himself down on the armrest nearest to Desmond, mockingly waiting for the inevitable verdict.

Eventually, Minister Fudge nodded to Dumbledore, his eyebrows were knitted in distress and his lips were quivering – Harry would have almost felt sorry for him if it were not for his actions against Harry in the past several weeks. Fudge scooted away from his seat, shuffling along the platform and stepping down the steps. He traipsed unsteadily to Nicholas and sunk to one knee before the prince, proclaiming with a voice that was utterly crushed, "I, Cornelius O-Oswald Fudge, do swear my allegiance to the S-Sovereign Lord, Prince Nicholas, his heirs and successors, serving them in the Ministry of Magic and Wizengamot according to law." Harry strained to hear it, but after a slight moment of tearful hesitation, Fudge whispered, "By Merlin, I swear it."

A bright blue glow enveloped the Minister for a moment, vanishing after a second, and did the same to Nicholas before it disappeared completely.

Following the Minister, Dumbledore and the rest of the Wizengamot bent on one knee and bowed their heads, accepting Nicholas. Harry gaped at the scene before him, admiring how Nicholas had been able to bring them all down to their knees without a single incantation or threat of physical violence.

Harry curved his head around Nicholas when he heard Desmond moving and widened his eyes at the Lord Commander also bowing down. Harry got off from his seat immediately and joined everybody else in bowing to Nicholas, becoming one of the minority in the room who did so without a single thought of malevolence towards the prince.

* * *

 **A/N: God, this was a hard chapter to get right. I really do hope you guys enjoyed it!**

 **Thinking about the plot bunny that birthed this story, I think I was foolish to plan that this fic was only going to be ten chapters long – yeah uh no, no,** _ **no**_ **.** **I literally need as much help as Fudge right now.**

 **Let me know what you thought though!**

 **-Guardian.**

 **P.S – I skimmed Chapter III and suddenly recalled that I rather adore foreshadowing ;)**


	6. The Extraction

**CHAPTER V – THE EXTRACTION**

Nicholas took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill his lungs, and exhaled his doubts.

The feeling of joy gripped him as all the rigorous planning which had begun nearly six years ago prepared him completely for what had occurred during the Disciplinary Hearing of Harry Potter.

The weight of the golden signet ring on the smallest finger of his left hand was something Nicholas felt he had to get used to, but its significance brought him the peace he never really knew he needed. That book, _Annales Regum et Reginarum Maleficus_ , was – before this point – the only proof Nicholas had in relation to his lineage and entitlements. _Not exactly true_ , Nicholas admitted inwardly. It was only a day ago when his connection in the goblin prophecy was _finalised_ upon the establishment of his bond to Hermione Granger, confirming them both, respectively, as the Prince and Lioness. Apart from those facts, Nicholas understandably held speculative disbelief over being the heir to a royal line which had died centuries ago.

Nicholas brought his left hand back to his face and eyed his new ring; the emblem of the imperial crown above a golden dragon, both glinting within two branches of oak, offered him a renewed sense of purpose. For most of his life, Nicholas had only seen this sigil in books about the history of the wizarding royal family. Now, Avalon had consecrated him as Crown Prince with the restoration of the Sovereign Nexus, and he wore this insignia as a result of the blessing which validated him as the only current living member of the Royal House of Westerly.

He was finally in the position to make changes in Wizarding Britain. There was a lot to do, yes, but Nicholas was willing to take on what he knew would be a gruelling task – simply because he did not think any one else would be able to.

Madam Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had signed off Harry's release from all the charges that were pitted against him. Edwin and Nicholas had taken this as their cue to leave the foolishly gaping mess of the Wizengamot behind them – for now – then making their way past the numerous reporters and up to the Atrium on Level Eight so they could use the Portkey Chamber. As its name suggests, the Portkey Chamber was the only room in the Ministry of Magic which enabled portkey travel, and when the trio felt the security wards surrounding the Ministry falling from them, Edwin pulled out the Portkey he had created in the morning.

Harry grasped the pocketbook that Edwin had held out tightly.

Amused by Harry's actions, Nicholas mentioned lightly, "I do not think you can splinch yourself from portkey travel."

"You cannot," Edwin confirmed, regarding Harry with concern.

Harry glanced at the two people on either side of him and then his hand before he loosened his grip slightly. "Yeah, I know," he said. "It's just . . . the last time I used one of these, it took me to that graveyard where Voldemort was resurrected."

Nicholas nodded in understanding. "It is reasonable for you to be anxious –"

"I'm not anxious," Harry denied instantly. "When I got to the graveyard, the Triwizard Cup fell from my hand before I even landed. I know if I'd just held on to it, I could have escaped with Cedric –"

"You do not know that," Edwin interjected softly.

"But –" Harry tried.

" _No_ ," Edwin held, "Portkeys are not meant to fall away from your hand – in any instance. Safety precautions made on the Portus Charm would have made it impossible for portkeys, whatever they are, to detach itself until the destination had been safely reached. It does this by spending the magic of every single user to create a kind of magnetic effect between them and the portkey. The way the spell had been crafted ensured that it would be very difficult for this safety measure to be removed, even by accident."

Nicholas inclined his head. "You're suggesting the Triwizard Cup was thoroughly sabotaged," he gathered.

Edwin nodded. "With the safeguards removed, it would have been easy to ensure the cup would not be accessible as soon as Harry was delivered to the graveyard." The Lord Commander leaned down to look Harry in the eyes. "All forms of escape you could have possibly attempted to make were calculated and then prevented. There was no way you could have changed what happened that night," he said firmly.

Harry blinked with knitted eyebrows, his mind slowly comprehending the sense spoken to him. Nicholas felt pity for the boy. It was so obvious that he had matured in some ways, but was still young in many others.

 _I probably have that in common with him,_ Nicholas supposed.

A grouchy male voice from outside the Portkey Chamber interrupted the quiet moment.

"Oi! Hurry up, will ya? Some of us aren't here to pick fuckin' daisies!"

Nicholas narrowed his eyes and Edwin snorted.

"Let us depart before Prince Nicholas demands respect from the whole Atrium," Edwin told Harry who cracked a smile at the sight of Nicholas rolling his eyes at the Lord Commander. The pocketbook portkey was held between all three wizards as Edwin clearly stated, "Gringotts," and Nicholas felt the familiar tug at his navel.

They landed inside Gringotts safely, avoiding the attraction of unwanted attention. Nicholas instantly recognised the office they were in as the one belonging to Lord Rockstooth – Director of Gringotts and Advisor to King Ragnarok.

"Ah," Rockstooth exclaimed, readily standing from his seat behind his mahogany desk and closing the book he had been writing in. "I was wondering where you had gotten to."

"I thought King Ragnarok asked you to learn patience the last time I saw you," said Nicholas.

"There is not much improvement you could have expected in the three days it had been since you saw me last, Your Highness," Rockstooth laughed with Nicholas, but he soon turned his attention to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I presume."

"Er – yeah, hello, sir," Harry greeted awkwardly, offering the goblin his hand.

Nicholas winced when Rockstooth stared hard at Harry in blatant disapproval before the goblin sighed and shook his head slightly, but still conformed himself to the human style of acknowledgement. Watching Rockstooth shake Harry's hand, Nicholas could tell that Rockstooth had only made an exception for the prince's sake – an exception that would probably not be made again.

 _Must I be the one to make sure a fifteen-year-old wizard learns the etiquette he should have been taught in his first year of magical schooling?_ Nicholas asked himself and then closed his eyes while sharply breathing out through his nose. _I suppose I cannot let him be killed by his own ignorance._

Rockstooth did not waste any time and got to work. "I would like for the procedure to be conducted as soon as possible, if there is not any disagreement on your part, Mr. Potter," he said, waddling to the door and indicating for Harry to follow him.

Harry widened his eyes. "We're getting the Horcrux out already?" he asked.

Rockstooth momentarily glanced at both Edwin and Nicholas in bewilderment. "It is a foul piece of magic and I would rather it be miles away from my bank than be inside it. I am sure we can all agree that it should be removed immediately . . ." Rockstooth trailed off and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stared at Harry, "unless you do not want it removed, of course."

"No!" Harry objected loudly. "No, I – I do want it gone, sir."

Harry's desperation was slightly upsetting for Nicholas to witness. He could never imagine what it would be like to know that a piece of the Dark Lord who murdered his parents resided within him, but Nicholas had to admit that Harry was handling it much better than most people would have.

Rockstooth's glare softened back to neutrality. "Shall we get this over with then?" He rotated the door knob which was kept at his small height and pulled the door open, once again motioning for Harry to follow him.

Harry glanced back at Edwin and Nicholas confusedly. "You're not coming?"

Edwin shook his head. "It is a professional procedure and it will, most likely, take hours to complete. Nicholas and I being present will only be distracting for the healers."

"I believe a friend of mine will be in the room with you," said Nicholas. "An ex-Hogwarts student who is now Knight of the Druid Union. He mentioned you might know him, but regardless of if you do or do not, you can trust he will take care of you."

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Harry was being led through several hallways filled with various rooms that contained goblins doing a variety of jobs. A large number of goblins mainly just wrote on and filed pieces of parchment, but Harry watched as a few goblins hurriedly ran past him and Rockstooth while carrying heavy bags of jingling gold. Most of the Gringotts Staff was too concentrated on their work to notice Harry, but the few who had allowed their gazes to stray all looked at him rather oddly.

 _It's probably because not many wizards come this deep into the bank_ , Harry decided when another goblin gaped at him and then Rockstooth.

Harry wished he had paid more attention in History of Magic; he vaguely remembered Professor Binns droning on and on about how there was a certain way you were supposed to act around goblins, and it was wizards not being compliant to these protocols that caused nearly all of the Goblin Rebellions. He wracked his brain, trying to recall the etiquette to use when addressing goblins, but he just remained without a single clue to help himself. All Harry could do with his lack of knowledge was follow his instincts, only speak when spoken to, and hope that it would be enough to not offend anyone to the point of another war with the goblins.

Rockstooth had so far remained silent and steered Harry around a corner, walking purposefully to the first door located to the left of the corridor. The goblin paused slightly before he pushed the door and it creaked open to reveal exactly the kind of room Harry could have imagined for a 'professional procedure,' as Lord Commander Desmond had put it.

Tables with several tools on them as well as cupboards containing what looked to be different typed of potions outlined the room while a single bed laid right in the middle, just beneath the centre lamp which hung from the ceiling. The tasteless white walls and simplistic dark walnut furniture mirrored the image of utter dullness magnificently – Harry thought he may just fall asleep looking around the chamber if it were not for the nervousness that seized him by the throat as he snapped his eyes back at the rather sharp-looking tools lying on the tables.

There were four healers in the room, all of whom quite evidently came from different backgrounds. A goblin was grumbling to himself as he lifted two bottles of a pink coloured potion to his face and gradually poured one into the other whilst sporadically checking them; in another corner of the room, another goblin – one that appeared to be much older, with his sparse grey hair – seemed to be briefing a young, maybe in his mid-twenties, blonde-haired wizard as well as a stern centaur, gesturing calmly as he explained.

Rockstooth coughed loudly, gaining the attention of those in the room. The older goblin inside stopped talking and motioned for the wizard in front of him to step forward. Harry took a good look at the wizard and realised that this was who Nicholas was talking about when he mentioned his friend who was ex-Hogwarts student. There was a hint of recognition that nagged in the back of Harry's mind as he wondered where he had seen this wizard before.

"Knight Higgs," greeted Rockstooth.

 _Higgs_ , Harry repeated inwardly. He zoned out as the familiarity grew stronger and furrowed his eyebrows in thought as Rockstooth and Higgs exchanged some words, Harry was frustrated that he could not place the man's face to a memory.

"Mr. Potter," Rockstooth called, throwing Harry out of his thoughts. "I will be taking my leave now; these healers will be leading the procedure."

"Er – right . . . thank you, my lord." Harry cringed when Rockstooth simply raised one furry eyebrow at him in reply and promptly left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Knight Higgs chuckled. "It's a good thing you're naïve enough to be likable, Potter," he said, amusedly. "I'm pretty sure you would've been killed by now, if you weren't."

Harry ignored the slight itch of annoyance caused by Higgs' patronising tone. "Do you know me?" he asked. "Prince Nicholas said you did."

"Not personally," replied Higgs, "but my name is Terrance – I played Quidditch against you in your first-year."

It took a few seconds, but Harry's mouth widened when he finally fully identified the wizard. Terrance Higgs was the rival seventh-year Slytherin seeker Harry had played against in his very first Quidditch game at Hogwarts. As far as Harry knew, Higgs had graduated after that year and Malfoy had taken his place as seeker. "Higgs," Harry said, looking around the room. "What are you doing here?"

"Observing," Higgs responded simply. "It's compulsory for a Druid Knight to tail a qualified healer for a week as part of their training and Healer Argok over there –" he pointedly eyed the old goblin he had been talking to earlier, "agreed to take me on."

"How did you get into the Druid Union?" Harry asked suspiciously. He was wondering how the apparently esteemed organisation could ever accept a _Slytherin_ into their ranks, but after some mild thought, Harry had to admit that Higgs was quite the bit different to all the other Slytherins he knew. For one thing, Higgs actually played by the rules in Quidditch from what Harry could recall.

"My grades were remarkable enough to get me an offer," said Higgs. "Turned out that the Lord Commander didn't just turn a blind eye to students other than Hermione Granger at Hogwarts."

Harry straightened his back at the mention of one of his best friends. "You know about Hermione?"

"Every Druid knows about Hermione Granger!" Higgs laughed, gesturing for Harry to follow him further into the room. "Honestly, you can't ask a girl out and have her say 'no' without someone bloody laughing and shouting she rejected you like Granger rejected Admissions."

A snort escaped Harry's nose. _Trust Hermione_ , he thought.

Higgs reached the bed in the middle of the room and picked up some neatly folded white clothing. He handed them to Harry, indicating with an outstretched arm towards another door to his left. "Dress into those clothes in that changing room. I'll answer any questions about the operation as soon as you're done," he said amiably.

Harry nodded, heading into the changing room Higgs had motioned him toward. It was cramped; not as small as the cupboard under the stairs, but not as big as Harry's current bedroom at Dursley home either. He was not picky, however, and he began slowly undressing down to his boxers before putting on the pure cotton clothes he was given just as deliberately. Harry folded the clothes he had taken off neatly, placing them as a pile on the floor, and putting his shoes on top of that pile – he even folded his socks, and just as he was running out of things he could do to stall, there was a knock on the door.

"Potter?" called Higgs. "Are you alright?"

"Uh – yeah," said Harry.

He breathed deeply and unlocked the door, stepping out and closing it behind him. Higgs smiled upon sighting Harry, kindness reflected from his blue eyes. Harry inwardly remarked how he could not believe such an expression could be shown on the face of a former member of Slytherin House – it was common knowledge how emotionless that lot were. Higgs gestured for Harry to lay himself on the uncomfortably hard bed.

The other three healers in the room surrounded Harry as soon as he lowered himself on the bed. They seemed to be taking his vitals, casting spells similar to what he had seen Madam Pomfrey do during his many visits to the Hospital Wings. The centaur's hooves clip-clopped on the floor as he treaded about, purposefully levitating many potions vials near vital parts of Harry's body. Eventually, Harry had many tubes connecting the potions into his skin, allowing the fluids clear paths into his bloodstream.

As Harry was amusedly thinking about how strange goblins looked with surgical masks, mostly because the masks were hardly able to cover their mouths since their large noses took up most of the cloth, Higgs abruptly came into Harry's line of vision. "They're nearly ready to begin," said Higgs. "I'd like to tell you a little more about the whole procedure before they do – is that alright?"

Harry nodded in response.

"Healer Argok will be leading the extraction," Higgs informed. "He has told me that he isn't too sure how long it will take to remove the Horcrux since he has never had a case of a dark soul being attached to another for as long as the Dark Lord's soul has been tethered to yours."

"But there have been other cases like mine?" Harry inquired.

Higgs' expression turned grave. "Yes," he replied. "There have been many other people who were caught in the midst of magical experimentation and were left with the piece of another wizard or witch's soul inside them as a result."

Harry watched Higgs worriedly. "What happened to them?"

Recognisably, Higgs attempted to keep his face neutral, but he only managed to let through an appearance of solemnity. "You have to understand, Potter . . . back then, magical healing had not advanced as far as it has now –"

That could only mean one thing. "They _died?_ " asked Harry – his hands, which had been flat on the bed, were now being used to frantically push him up.

Higgs gently placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Careful," he said, grabbing at a potions vial connected to Harry's arm. He dragged it closer to Harry so the tube would not be pulled out from any further movements from the boy. "I understand that this might be frightening for you and I'm telling you that you have every right to call this off – even at the very last second before they start the actual extraction." Though Higgs was attempting to keep his voice calm, Harry still struggled against him.

"Listen, Potter. I'm not a liar and I don't have anything to gain from lying to you –" Higgs paused, shocked at Harry's fiercely distrusting look, but he then sighed and said, "You don't believe me because I was a Slytherin, I get it, but you need to understand . . . I'm not here to kill you, I'm here to do my job, Potter. Frankly, I wouldn't have been here at all if it weren't for Prince Nicholas requesting me to take this internship with Argok so I could give him some company by being back in Britain." The Knight lessened his hold as Harry calmed. "You don't have to have the Horcrux extracted today, but could you at least hear me out? At least know everything before you make your final decision," Higgs implored.

Harry stared straight at Higgs. "I – I don't have to do this today?" he asked, needing another confirmation.

"No," Higgs responded calmly. "Healers cannot do anything without your express consent and it's my duty to the International Confederation's laws to uphold that."

Harry relaxed slightly. He remembered Hermione telling him how principled the Druid Union was, how they were basically an army that functioned globally to keep the peace within every single country whilst preserving the Statute of Secrecy. Higgs may have been a Slytherin, but he was also part of the Druid Union and a friend of Prince Nicholas – that was enough to warrant some of Harry's trust. "Alright, I'll listen," said Harry.

Higgs smiled gladly. "Right, okay." Removing his hand from Harry's shoulder, Higgs took a step back to give the boy some space. "The last recorded case of a soul fragment using a person as a host through the means of a Horcrux ritual was back in 1678 – more than three hundred years ago. Healers back then didn't know much about the soul or how an attachment between a soul and a foreign piece may affect the main host. They had, upon diagnosing the issue, chosen to use a method which did indeed remove the Horcrux, but it also caused a large amount of the main soul to be removed –"

Harry winced. "And now?" he quickly asked, not particularly wanting to hear anything more about whoever had their soul cut out from them. "What's changed?"

" _Now_ ," Higgs stressed on the word, "magical research has advanced and given answers to many mysteries that had previously baffled those who had lived on this world three hundred years ago. We _now_ have a method for extracting the Horcrux which will be precise with a ninety-nine percent guarantee of no damage to the main host." His eyes strayed to Argok for a moment before he eyed Harry again and said, "From what I've been told about your case, You-Know-Who's soul has been tied to yours for about fifteen years . . . which is why I regret to tell you that the procedure may cause you a large sum of pain, if you go through with it."

Harry's breaths quickened in alarm.

Higgs bowed his head apologetically. "The longer a foreign soul is present, the more it's able to leech magic from the main soul – thus, creating a link that is harder to break due to its extremely intimate nature. The procedure Argok plans to put you through would be destroying this link, essentially allowing him to amputate an extension of your own soul – hence, the pain," he explained.

"Can't you give me relieving potions or something?" asked Harry.

Higgs smiled ruefully, twiddling at the tube going into Harry's arm. "These are all potions, Harry," he indicated all the other vials around Harry and the tubes connecting Harry to them. "You'll be receiving several different potions to help relive most of the pain. Argok has explained to me, however, that there is a high chance that the pain would be able to surpass them all."

Harry tried again, "You can't give me more?"

"Afraid not," said Higgs. "You'll already be on the edge of an overdose by Argok's calculations."

Harry paused briefly. "And there's no other way – a painless way – to get rid of the Horcrux?"

"This is the least painful method which also guarantees your survival," Higgs patiently answered. "Remember you can back out, Potter. Not one person in this room will blame you if you do not feel ready to go through with it – His Highness _did_ set this up pretty last minute."

Harry's eyes lowered to his lap and he finally noticed his hands were trembling. He was scared, that much was obvious. Harry thought about how he would have preferred this all to have been straightforward for him – just a little potion-induced sleep and he would wake hours later to a healer telling him that the Horcrux had been successfully removed. Harry clenched his jaw and swallowed, breathing deeply through his nose. He did not really have a choice in this – at least, that was his opinion. There was simply no sane person in this world who would actually _want_ Voldemort's soul attached to their own, and Harry was not crazy, no matter how much the Daily Prophet had claimed him as such for the past few weeks. He did not want any part of Voldemort _near him_ , let alone a piece of the git's soul _inside of him_ – and if Harry wanted that piece to be destroyed, he had to suck it up and accept what he had to be done . . . Harry had to go through the pain.

Determination flowed through Harry's veins like adrenaline as he cursed the dark tosser for everything he possibly could in every way he could. Harry lifted his had back to look at Higgs, afraid that he might change his mind if he allowed himself any more time to think. "I want to do this," he said.

Higgs smiled widened. "Good man," he said, clearly impressed. "I'll tell them to get started then, alright? They'll be as quick as they can, I promise." Higgs rushed over to Argok and whispered to him as the goblin intently listened.

Harry leaned back onto the bed, left to simply stare up at the ceiling. His whole body began to feel heavy and he noticed the tubes linking him to the potions now allowing the pink fluid from the potions vials to flow down them, running into his body. The effect of the potions was strong, sweeping over Harry like a wave, until he fell completely limp in almost ten seconds while still retaining all conscious thought. The healers also seemed to be moving around him at a faster pace as if time itself had sped up.

In the corner of Harry's eye, Argok told Higgs something which made the wizard stand far to the side of the room, completely out of the way. The remaining three healers; the two goblins and the centaur, outstretched their right hands and banded together to conjure a single miniscule ball of flames between them. The fire seemed to be alive as several enchanted creatures created from the blaze violently attempted to escape their careful confines.

As soon as the healers were sure they had control over the flames, when the creatures had stopped trying to flood out of the fire and attack everything in sight, Higgs dimmed the centre lamp in the room until it was only as bright as a mere candle. The fireball was then brought down to loom just over Harry's face; Harry widened his eyes as he felt the severe heat of the flames near his face, and he was just about to cry out in protest, but it was too late. The healers braced themselves and let the fire descend into Harry's scar.

 _Pain._

Torturous agony unlike any other scratched through every muscle on Harry's body, the shooting pain gnawing into the meat on his bones like a predator chewing on its prey. Harry would have screamed if he had control over his mouth, he would have begged someone – anyone at all – to end his life, and he would have tried to end it all himself when everyone else refused.

Muffled shrieks escaped Harry's closed lips as tears rolled down the side of his face and onto the pillow beneath his head. He desperately tried to think of anything he could to distract himself of the intense feeling of burning, but it was no use. The throbbing mocked Harry too loudly for him to forget it was there.

Not for the first time in his life, Harry hopelessly begged for his parents to come and save him, knowing all the while that his calls went unheard. His parents were gone – long gone. He could not do anything to change that, _they_ could not do anything to change that and he hated it – he hated _them_.

Harry cursed Lily and James Potter. He cursed his mother and father because it was all their fault. They were stupid to trust that shite Wormtail. They should have just moved away – far away – until the war was over, but instead they died and left him an orphan, and they did not let him die with them, they just _left him._

 _I hate you_ , the miserable words circled through his mind, aimed at his mum and dad, and he hoped to everything that they could hear him. _I want to die_ _– why didn't you let me die?_ Harry's tears fell in a constant stream of salty water and he openly sobbed between the screams from his closed mouth.

It felt like hours – or maybe it actually _was_ hours – before Harry heard a god-awful screeching that did not come from him. At the same time, Harry sensed something leaving his body through his scar. Something dark, something monstrous, still gripped onto Harry though; claws dug into his forehead as, whatever it was, clung onto him, chaotically scratching away as it tried to hold on until the feeling vanished.

Harry had closed his eyes at some point during the procedure. When he found the strength to open his eyes, he saw the healers panicking slightly as they looked up at a dark shadow of smoke writhing as it rose into the air above him.

Argok yelled at his colleagues, his voice deep and raspy from age, "Gawking will not help you, idiots – help me destroy it before it chooses one of us as its next host!"

There was a brief moment where the other two healers shook themselves out of their stupor; the ball of flames kept between all three healers was then swiftly brought up to the murky cloud. The black shadow-like substance looked like it was flinching away from the flames, just as a living person would have. Harry tiredly watched the healers raising their fire further upwards and then they expanded it slightly to swallow the shadow which emitted one last chilling shriek before it dissipated into nothing.

It was gone.

 _I'm sorry mum – dad_.

Another sob erupted from Harry's chest.

 _I'm so sorry._

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Three hours had passed since Rockstooth returned from the small emergency infirmary section of Gringotts Bank. Rockstooth sat back down on his desk across from Edwin and Nicholas who patiently waited for Harry to return and quietly got on with the work that needed his attention, occasionally leaving the office when he required direct explanations to an issue someone had. Edwin himself had asked if he could use Rockstooth's desk to start writing his report that detailed the events of the hearing for the International Confederation while it was still fresh in his mind.

Meanwhile, Nicholas had briefly used the direct Floo in Rockstooth's office to travel to King Ragnarok's palace. He returned about fifteen minutes later carrying a large number of books which, Edwin noted, were all the books related to soul bonds the prince had in his possession. Edwin amusedly remarked to himself that there was no obviously need for him to retrieve any tomes from the Druid Union's archives since Nicholas seemed awfully keen to ensure Hermione was well-informed himself.

Warm affection washed over Edwin as the books _thumped_ onto the desk when Nicholas placed them down. Nicholas would do right by Hermione however he could and Edwin could not help but be proud of that. The Crown Prince had the pride and morals of the goblins, and the heart and wisdom of the druids; he was the very embodiment of duty and justice – love and mercy. Nicholas was raised to be exactly what a king should be and Edwin was glad to know that the boy had mostly remained without ego in the process.

Nicholas was marking several pages in the books he had brought before placing them in a brown satchel he had also brought with him, and confusion shook Edwin out of his thoughts enough for him raise an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Nicholas snapped his head up and looked at Edwin who remained amusedly curious. "I am marking the pages that are important – just in case Hermione will not want to go through all of these," he motioned toward the tall pile of books lying on the edge of Rockstooth's desk.

Edwin chuckled. "Rather thoughtful of you, my boy, but I assure you the reports have suggested she is quite the studious one –" he broke off his sentence to laugh outright. "I fear even all of these books will not be enough for Hermione Granger."

Nicholas fidgeted with the book in his lap. "If that is the case," he started, closing the book and placing it in the satchel, "would you be able to acquire any more?"

Edwin tilted his head and regarded Nicholas with exasperation, but he eventually smiled fondly at the boy beside him. He lifted his hand and pushed his knuckles gently against the side of Nicholas' jaw in a gesture of affection. "I was only joking, little prince," said Edwin. "The books you have brought with you will be more than enough. They all, in one way or another, mention what the bond actually is and what every individual author of each text has theorised it to be from their own conclusions and research. I will always be willing to provide more – for both of you – but any other books will only be echoes of what you would have already read."

Nicholas looked sheepish. "I apologise, Edwin," he said. "I think I am just worried about her reaction – about it all, actually."

"It is to be expected," Edwin assured. "I was the same with Jane if it is any consolation."

Nicholas widened his eyes in innocent astonishment. "Really?" he asked. "You are both so natural with each other."

"Natural comes with more than twenty years of marriage," Edwin grinned. "Before Jane and I pledged our vows to each other, and just after the mess during which we had met, was a period of about five years where I was nearly always a stuttering fool around her. Merlin only knows how she fell enough in love to marry me."

" _That_ is beyond even Merlin, Lord Commander," Rockstooth stated, not looking up from his calculations.

Edwin cried out in objection. "It is not _completely_ preposterous!"

Nicholas laughed at his mentor's indignation, but silenced his chuckles when there was an abrupt knock on the door. Shuffling on his seat with a wide smile, Nicholas still silently laughed, and Edwin threw a happy glance at the teenager, pleased that the lad had cheered up.

Rockstooth called, "Come in!"

Head Healer Argok of the Gringotts Emergency Staff and Knight Terrance Higgs walked into the office, leading a slightly unsteady and dejected Harry Potter behind them. Nicholas promptly stood to help Harry into his vacated seat, the boy slowly sliding into the chair and lowering his head.

"The Horcrux has been eliminated," Argok informed. "Mr. Potter will still be feeling the residual effects of the potions from the procedure."

"When will the potions wear off?" Edwin inquired, eyeing Harry worriedly.

Argok paused in thought. "I would give it a night's rest."

Edwin nodded at the healer. "Thank you."

"Well done, Argok," Nicholas praised. "I am sorry for calling upon you so late yesterday. Though I am not sorry for wanting this to be done as soon as possible."

"No apologies required, Your Highness," said Argok. "I completely agree – if we had waited any longer, the Dark Lord may have started to use the Horcrux to seize control of Potter's mind."

"You have done Avalon a great service today, Argok," said Rockstooth. "I will ensure your family name will receive honours for this. For now, you may return to your post."

The healer bowed his head. "My lord," he said respectfully, before turning and exiting the room.

Nicholas then kneeled to the floor in front of Harry and was alarmed to see tears running down the boy's face. "Harry . . ." Nicholas glanced towards Edwin for help, but saw the man was talking to Terrance.

Harry's jaw clenched as he gasped out some quiet sobs; his distress was great, and Nicholas would have been startled by it if it were not for the growing wet smile on Harry's face. "I'll tell – tell you what," Harry shakily grinned through his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. "I won't ever do _that_ again."

Nicholas huffed out a single laugh, grinning back with his face still showing margin of concern. "You'll never have to, my friend," he responded, promise in his tone.

"You should return him home," Terrance spoke. "I expect Potter needs rest, Your Highness."

Harry's voice was cracked as he smiled jokily and started, "I expect –" but stopped to wipe his nose with his sleeve, using his hand to wipe a runaway tear from his cheek, "I expect Nicholas needs to see Hermione." Harry pointed at the pile of books on the desk in front of him.

Terrance made a little choking sound as he attempted to reign in his laughter. Edwin, however, started to bark out his own mirth at the sight of Nicholas quickly rushing to the desk and picking off each book from the stack then placing them into the satchel, all the while the back of his neck visibly flushing red.

"I didn't know you had a thing for Granger, Nicholas," said Terrance. "Merlin, I suppose it makes sense – bookworms love only bookworms and all –"

"Speak another word about it, Higgs," warned Nicholas, "I'll cut your tongue out."

Terrance pouted. "Spoilsport," he grumbled.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

Hermione glanced up at the clock in the dining room; it had just turned half-past three in the afternoon and she was yet to hear any news about Harry's hearing. The quartet that had left in the morning had done so just before nine o'clock in the morning, so it had been about seven hours since they had left.

She had passed most of this time by sleeping – which was surprising. A simple fact of life was that Mrs. Weasley would not be caught dead allowing a child under the same roof as her to sleep through the day. Knowing this, Hermione imagined she must have looked like death reincarnate to have _Mrs. Weasley_ _herself_ tell her to go up and get some rest. The woman was even kind enough to put up silencing charms to keep out the excess noise that Fred and George usually make.

When Hermione had awoken about six hours later to the angry grumbling of her stomach, she was extremely grateful to Mrs. Weasley who had even thoughtfully kept Hermione's portion of chicken stew and bread in the kitchen under a preservation charm which maintained its warmth.

Ron had tried again to get Hermione to spill some information on what happened last night at the meeting, but he had eventually given up after she finally pleaded with him to stop asking her. Hermione sat back in hurt, sadly despising the situation as she saw the betrayal on Ron's face. She could only hope that both her and Harry would be able to open up soon – otherwise, she feared she would not be able to forgive whatever comes out of his mouth the next time he inevitably blew up at them in frustration.

Ginny, Fred, and George – though largely disappointed by the lack of information – were the more understanding of the Weasley family. They continued to be amiable with her and were accepting of the reasoning Hermione had given them on why she could not tell them anything. The three were great friends, and Hermione was grateful for having them, but she could not shake off the desire to seek comfort from one particular person.

Hermione often strongly wished that there could be no complications in her friendship with Daphne. Her best friend always had her way to calm Hermione by going through the motions of Hermione's thought process; picking apart each chaotic thought, finding the problem, and then patiently explaining why it was either a valid issue or not a problem at all. Daphne sometimes joked that she did it so often that it might as well be on her school timetable, but Hermione could not help but agree. It was routine and Hermione needed that – a sense of something just _staying_ normal in her life.

An ideal world would have allowed Hermione to run straight to Daphne's home. But unluckily, Daphne's parents were purebloods with traditional extremist views and the sight of Hermione at their home would probably set the world on fire. Reality reminded Hermione that she would most likely have to wait until, at least, the first day of term when they both return for their fifth-year to see Daphne – which was in about two weeks. It was a fortunate circumstance when Hermione thought about it, however. Even if Hermione could meet Daphne earlier than the September 1st, she would be left with the dilemma of whether or not she should keep everything a secret from Daphne because of the trust Edwin and Nicholas had placed on her.

Hermione resolved to ask Edwin or Nicholas for the all-clear when she next saw them. The very idea of keeping things from Daphne seemed utterly wrong and Hermione wondered if that was perhaps how Harry felt in regards to the situation with Ron – after all, the person who understood Harry the best was Ron, just as the person who understood Hermione the best was Daphne.

A flash of green light in the corner of her eyes gave indication to the fireplace in the living room violently springing to life from the activation of the Floo System. Hermione watched from her seat at the dining table as Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George all darted to the door to see who had entered. Placing her knife and fork onto her plate, Hermione followed the excitable Weasleys to the foyer, looking into the living room once she had gotten there.

Hermione first noticed Harry, who was unhealthily pale, leaning heavily on Nicholas for support as he stumbled forward.

Earlier in the morning, during the briefing Hermione had been able to witness, Nicholas had told Harry that the preparations for the Horcrux extraction had mostly been made and he would let Harry know when the healers were ready to go through with it. Quite evidently, the healers were ready earlier than Hermione expected, and Harry had just returned from the procedure if his exhausted manner was anything to go by.

Inspecting Edwin and Nicholas' faces, Hermione was glad to see the lack of worry she knew would have been present if anything went wrong while the Horcrux was being removed. That meant that, with one of their problems out of the picture, Harry and Hermione were only left with the one most glaring issue in their lives – Lord Voldemort.

Fred and George stepped forward concernedly. They hooked their arms around either side of Harry's underarms and relieved Nicholas of his weight. Hermione heard Edwin tell them, "He needs rest," before they nodded and helped Harry out of the living room, past her, and up the stairs. Sirius' voice briefly echoed around the house as he asked his godson about his well-being, but he soon turned into distant murmurings, probably because he had entered Harry and Ron's shared bedroom.

"Suppose there's no point hanging about," Ron mumbled to Hermione. "Those two won't tell me anything if _you_ won't." He was looking straight at Nicholas and Edwin, but averted his stare as soon as Edwin met his eyes. Hermione knew Edwin, with his tall stature and trimmed beard, could look quite formidable and intimidating – especially compared to either Ron or Harry who were scrawny in comparison – so Hermione could understand why Ron felt that Edwin was definitely unapproachable.

" _Ron_ ," Hermione pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears. It was all she could do when she stared at Ron's back as he left.

"I'll go talk to him," said Ginny who then quickly followed her brother up the stairs. Despite Ginny mentioning her intentions, Hermione reckoned the youngest Weasley just wanted to see how Harry was doing.

Nicholas and Edwin gave looks of question to Hermione, but she only shook her head and chose to distract their attention from her friendship troubles. "How did the hearing go?" she asked, walking back to the dining room with the two others following behind her.

"Very well," answered Nicholas as they all seated themselves. "Harry was found innocent of all charges. The Ministry had been shown memories of the Third Task so the ball has begun to roll in terms of offensive measures being made against some suspects such as Lucius Malfoy."

"That's good," Hermione commented.

"Quite," Edwin grinned. "Peter Pettigrew's appearance in Harry's memories has also alerted the correct authorities that Sirius Black did not receive a trial. Madam Bones has informed me she will be setting up a hearing for him – it will take place a week from now. Lord Black should be receiving contact from the DMLE very soon."

Hermione eyes widened in delight. "I should go tell him!" she squealed happily, getting up.

"Calm yourself, child," Edwin chuckled, and Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Harry would probably want to enlighten his godfather himself, I think."

"Oh, you're right," Hermione slumped in realisation. "Did anything else happen?"

"Well," said Nicholas, "Avalon has recognised me as the Crown Prince." He pulled his left hand from underneath the table and extended it towards Hermione, indicating the ring that shone a bright shiny gold on his little finger.

Hermione gasped as she laid her eyes upon the certain proof of Nicholas' lineage. The book she had briefly read on Wizarding Britain's ancient royal family contained the exact crest of a dragon – the official sigil belonging to any member of the Regal House of Westerly. She was unable to completely ignore the flare of her magic, as well as the feeling of the prince's own magic brushing against hers like shoulders between two students in a hallway, but her curiosity about what he had said earlier won her over. "Avalon," Hermione tilted her head and looked down in recollection. "That's the island King Arthur died on in the legends, isn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Nicholas confirmed with a nod. "Though it was only an island at first, Avalon was eventually the name that was given to the entire expanse of Magical Britain."

Hermione frowned at Nicholas in question, encouraging him to continue, but then noticing she had held on to his hand for far longer than necessary. Releasing his hand, Hermione was unaware of the disappointment on Nicholas' face.

Nicholas went on to explain, "During the purge that followed King Arthur's death, most of the wizarding populace was evacuated to Avalon by Queen Guinevere. That also, unfortunately, included the king and queen's daughter who was associated with magic through her marriage to Cadogan –"

"A Knight of the Round Table," Hermione recognised.

"And also the first child of Merlin," Edwin added.

She was visibly taken aback. "Merlin had children?"

"Two," said Edwin. "Cadogan and Mordred – legitimate because of his marriage to Morgan Le Fay."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed as she tried to think of an appropriate way to react. "It – but – that isn't mentioned anywhere in the legends," she stammered.

Nicholas smirked. "The legends are mostly fiction – think of them like they are as truthful as the Daily Prophet."

"I never knew Geoffrey of Monmouth could be so disgustingly dishonest," remarked Hermione.

Nicholas laughed. He then paused for a second, appearing to be contemplating before he brought the conversation back to where it had been before they side-tracked. "King Arthur and Queen Guinevere's daughter, Amelia, refused to leave Cadogan's side because of her love for him. The magical community, small at the time, was so infused with the politics of the muggle world that they still mourned for King Arthur and then inevitably adopted Princess Amelia as their new Queen because of the line of succession.

"So it just continued from there?" asked Hermione in wonder. "The Royal House of Westerly actually began with King Arthur himself?"

"It did," Edwin confirmed. "Magic's isolation in Britain became the sole reason why muggles and wizards have their own royalty." He raised his head to the ceiling and closed his eyes in thought. "I believe it was Alfred the Great who defeated the Vikings and laid the foundations for his each of his descendants to become King of the English – a title which had, in time, become King of England. By popular estimates, Alfred the Great came into his power about fifty years after the death of King Arthur."

Hermione's awe must have been showing on her face as Edwin and Nicholas both gazed at her amusedly. She could not believe that Nicholas was the living evidence of such a great legacy, starting from the once-mythical King Arthur himself.

It was _extraordinary_.

Taking a page out of Ron's book, Hermione whispered, "Bloody hell," as her mouth caught up to what her mind had understood.

Edwin raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Language, Hermione Jean."

Hermione shrugged sheepishly at Edwin. "Sorry – but that would mean Nicholas is a direct descendent of Merlin."

Nicholas nodded. "Indeed I am."

She blinked at the admission. "The bigots are going to hate you."

He grinned like it was a challenge. "Indeed they will."

Hermione's expression morphed between one of amusement and silent admiration for his audacity. "A muggle-born king – is that Voldemort I hear screaming in the distance?" Hermione asked dryly.

Edwin and Nicholas laughed heartily.

"I rather think that is the Wizengamot screaming," suspected Edwin, chucking.

Nicholas chortled. "Muggle-born and goblin-raised – their worst nightmare!"

Hermione's smile faded as her mind instantly repeated the words, 'goblin-raised,' back at her. Curiosity was quick to overwhelm her and she cocked her head to the right. "You were raised by goblins?"

Nicholas raised his dark eyebrows. "Is that a problem?" he defensively questioned in return.

Hermione hurriedly jumped to assure him, "Of course not!"

"Why does it matter?" Nicholas asked.

"It doesn't," Hermione replied. "It's just – the goblins don't seem like the sort to take in wizards – we haven't been the greatest lot, you know."

"Ah," Nicholas understood, relaxing a little. "Usually they would not have any inclination to take in wizards, but I give myself credit for being a special case," he smiled cheekily.

Hermione shook her head with an exasperated smile of her own. "The man you were talking about yesterday – the one who raised you – am I right to assume that he's a goblin?"

Edwin and Nicholas gave each other subtle glances that Hermione picked up on. Nicholas' gaze was then on her and she could sense he was debating seriously over telling her something. "Yes," he answered reluctantly, "A goblin . . ." Nicholas paused like he had more to say, but was hesitant.

His discomfort bothered her slightly. Hermione did not want to know anything she was not meant to know, nor did she want Nicholas to think he had to tell her anything. She leaned forward in her seat. "Don't feel you have to say anything more, Your Highness."

"I want to," said Nicholas who then took a deep breath and revealed, "I am officially the ward of the Goblin Nation – under the Affiliate Pact of 1564 and the Resolutions Act of 1981 in Goblin Law, my guardian is King Ragnarok III."

Hermione's mouth widened in shock and her voice was heavily coated in disbelief as she asked, "You were raised by the king of goblins himself?"

"He had a lot of help!" Nicholas assured, glancing pointedly at Edwin. "It would have been extremely difficult to raise me if he did it alone."

"Hear, hear!" Edwin agreed, tapping the table in front of him.

Hermione shook her head, raising both hands and stopping all conversation as she stared straight at Nicholas. "I hope I don't offend you by saying this, Nicholas, but I have to ask . . ." Thinking through her words, Hermione continued, "I mean I know King Ragnarok has ensured that you're properly educated and politically aware – that much is clear by you making me aware of more things about the Ministry of Magic in the last two days than Hogwarts had done in the last four years – but how will the Ministry of Magic ever accept you? The way they are now – they would do everything they can to make sure that you, muggle-born and goblin-raised as you are, don't sit on the throne."

Nicholas nodded gravely. "They will do everything and anything they can, but their efforts will be for naught," he said.

Edwin explained, "The Ministry of Magic can come up with laws and regulations against any form of Wizarding Monarchy in Britain, lawfully prohibiting Nicholas from taking the throne. These attempts will nevertheless be ignored by the deeply interwoven magic of the people and the land that ties them all to the current king or queen."

Hermione motioned for him to go on.

"The particular interwoven magic I am talking about is called the Sovereign Nexus," he illuminated. "The many centuries that the royal family had been present were not without effect to the wizarding population. Due to the profound masses of people that were faithful to the royals, all of their magic began to run between three focal points; themselves, the lands around them – in this case, the whole of Avalon – and the current sovereign. The most crucial point in the Sovereign Nexus is indeed –"

"The sovereign," Hermione said obviously.

"Yes," Edwin replied.

"The Magical Dominion of Avalon cannot truly be united without the presence of the sovereign, which is why there has been unrest for the many centuries a royal had been absent," Nicholas clarified. "Britain's magic is tied to the lands around us, the wizards and witches that practice magic, and the royal. Upon the death of a person who had practiced magic, the magic returns to the lands – to be reused upon the birth of another magical. Thousands of years of faith in the Crown had caused an evolutionary characteristic of natural loyalty to grow in wizards. This is because, as soon as the ancient magic is used by someone, that person begins to feel the loyalty of those who used magic before them –"

"The loyal people who had been alive during the reign of Queen Eleanora," Hermione understood.

Nicholas nodded. "The Sovereign Nexus binds all magic together in a triangle. This meant that when I was inside the Ministry of Magic – a central point of magic in the land – Avalon was able to easily recognise me as the Crown Prince," he indicated his ring once more.

Hermione knitted her eyebrows together, not getting one thing. "If it was the magic of Avalon that recognised you as heir – and as the _sole_ heir – why weren't you automatically made king? Emancipation would be normal in these circumstances, wouldn't it?"

Nicholas looked impressed by the question, but Edwin answered before he could, "Any Heir Apparent in Wizarding Britain will never be able to become King or Queen without making their vows to uphold the law as ruler and being traditionally anointed whilst in the presence of the past Kings and Queens of Avalon."

"The presence of the past Kings and Queens?" questioned Hermione.

"The Chamber of Regalia in the Department of Mysteries contains the portraits and magical remnants of all those who had sat on the throne centuries ago," said Edwin. "They must all give their blessing by anointing Nicholas with their magic before he is able to truly be king."

Hermione nodded slowly in comprehension. "But Nicholas was in the Ministry today. He could have visited the Department of Mysteries, surely."

Nicholas chuckled. "I am pleased you are so keen to make me king, but I had already decided to be coroneted next February on my birthday."

"I assume that's because you want to be considered an adult at the time of your ascension," Hermione supposed. It made sense; Hermione knew that Nicholas would have a lot of problems with the Ministry regardless of his age, but a lot of those problems would be eradicated if he was over the age of seventeen. From what she had learned about royal traditions in Wizarding Britain, Hermione found that it was nearly the same as the muggle equivalent of the monarchy. The main law that the two had in common was the one that allowed the current government to petition for a regent or council to act in the stead of an Heir Apparent, in the case that he/she was under the age of legal adulthood at the time of ascension, until they came of-age – an unfortunate circumstance that Nicholas should not risk with Minister Fudge in charge.

"It is the safest option we have," said Nicholas.

Edwin then coughed to gain the attention of the other two in the room. Hermione had been watching Edwin in the corner of her eye for the past few minutes and saw him periodically checking his watch – and she was reminded of how important he actually was. "I must apologise, Hermione," he said. "I had not realised how late it had gotten. I'm afraid Nicholas and I must leave." The Lord Commander gave Nicholas a slight nudge.

There was a look of something akin to disappointment on Nicholas' face. He stayed put for a moment longer before he nodded in acceptance and stood, Hermione and Edwin following his movements only moments behind him. Nicholas reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out a miniature brown satchel, with its adjustable strap and all. Much to Hermione's surprise, Nicholas enlarged the satchel wandlessly until it was exactly how big an average satchel would be. Nicholas took a moment to inspect the bag before he handed it to Hermione who accepted it in confusion. "What is this?" she asked

Nicholas replied, "I took the liberty of gathering all the books I have in my possession which are related to soul bonds."

"Oh," Hermione said cleverly, glancing down at the satchel dangling from her hand – momentarily, she stopped and took a second to assume that a lightweight charm had been placed on it – then she gazed back at Nicholas once again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am," Nicholas smiled. "Just –" he paused in hesitation and then gestured at the satchel, "Just be sure to let me know if those are not enough for you."

Hermione was stunned at his generosity. "I will," she said. "Thank you, Nicholas."

Edwin spoke up, "I doubt we shall see each other before you are to return to Hogwarts."

Disappointed, Hermione stepped forward to embrace the Lord Commander. Edwin chuckled and raised one of his hands from Hermione's back to her head and affectionately ruffled her hair, much to her annoyance. Later on, Hermione would think about that little action and smile that Edwin had remembered how she hated anyone touching her hair when she was little. At this particular moment, Hermione stepped back and used her hands to comb her now frizzy bangs back into their place. "This takes forever to fix, Edwin," she complained.

"My sincere apologies," Edwin grinned.

In the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Nicholas trying very hard to seem occupied with fixing the belt on his hip which carried his, probably goblin-forged, blade. Awkwardly, Hermione offered her hand to him and he appeared to be quite surprised, but shook it anyway. Their hands wrapped around each other fittingly and the light from their touch which had illuminated brightly the day before was utterly absent today, but the warmth did not relent.

Edwin began to walk out the door. "Come along, Your Highness," he prodded.

Hermione blinked and separated her hand from Nicholas who coughed and stepped back slightly. There was a long moment of awkwardness between them as both did not know what to say, focusing too much on how their hand had become rather cold without the other person's fingers around it. "Well," Nicholas laughed nervously, "I hope to see you soon, Hermione."

"Me too," Hermione smiled.

Nicholas nodded stiffly at her before he turned and walked straight for the door so quickly that Hermione would have thought he was running away if it were not for him stopping just at the threshold. Hermione stared at the prince's back with a raised eyebrow which turned from one of amusement to just plain confusion when he turned his body back to her, but glanced down at his fidgeting hands.

Nicholas looked into her eyes then. "I am sorry if this is . . . inappropriate – and I assure you that I am fully-aware you and I had only met yesterday, but . . . well, may I write to you?" Hermione had remained silent, in shock, for the full-length of two seconds before Nicholas began to babble, "You are not obligated to say yes, of course, but – like Edwin said – the next time we will see each other will probably be during the Yuletide Holidays – and that is perfectly fine, but it is still a fairly long time to go without any sort of correspondence. I just think it would be better to have some sort of contact in case of an emergency or if you need any–"

Hermione laughed outright and she laughed loudly, preventing Nicholas from prattling on any further as he looked away, reddening in embarrassment. When Hermione's tears started to fall from her eyes as her amusement grew at the sight of the blushing prince, Nicholas frowned. "I – I think I have my answer," he said, turning away from her with the intention of walking away.

Through her mirth, Hermione's hand shot out to grip Nicholas' forearm to stop him from leaving. "No –" she gasped, still giggling, "I haven't – answered."

"I am sure I do not need a sentence to dismiss me," Nicholas returned tightly, his jaw clenched. "Your laughter is rejection enough, thank you."

"That would be all well and good if I was rejecting you, Your Highness," Hermione laughed again. "Dear Merlin, I thought you were going to ask for something _else_ – something _completely_ inappropriate," she said meaningfully, "I'm laughing because you took me by surprise, Nicholas – that's all."

If Nicholas could get any redder, Hermione would wonder about the extreme biological functionalities of his body and see whether she could experiment with it. "I would not ask for anything like _that_ ," he said uncomfortably. "It would be . . . tactless and dishonourable."

Hermione's smile faded and she raised an eyebrow. "You _wouldn't_ ask me?"

Nicholas widened his eyes. " _No!_ " he exclaimed loudly. "I mean, yes, I would ensure your willingness in that sort of situation, were it to ever occur – but I only met you _yesterday_ and that is not –" Hermione's mouth that was previously set firmly in a frown, widened into a grin at Nicholas' stuttering words as she funnily found him quite endearing. Nicholas himself stopped jabbering and seemed glad to see she was not offended. "You are teasing me," he stated in relief.

"It's fast becoming a new favourite hobby of mine," responded Hermione.

"How unfortunate for me," Nicholas said dryly.

"Indeed," Hermione cheekily replied.

Nicholas paused for a moment. "Could you carry out this hobby in letters?" he requested hopefully.

"I think I could," answered Hermione with a smile.

Nicholas released a breath and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with that embarrassed grin Hermione rather enjoyed witnessing. "I look forward to it, Miss. Granger."

Edwin's voice than rang out from the hallway. " _Nicholas!_ "

"You better go, Your Highness," Hermione advised.

Nicholas nodded and turned about, this time actually walking out from the dining room door. He followed Edwin outside through the hallway to the front door and Hermione trailed behind him slowly, a feeling in the back of her head nagging at her as though she was forgetting something important. Edwin was just twisting the doorknob to open it when Hermione abruptly remembered what she had meant to ask before either of them had even arrived. "Edwin!" she called, halting the man from departing. "Can I tell anyone about yesterday?"

Edwin regarded her with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Can I tell anyone about Nicholas or the prophecies?" Hermione elaborated.

Edwin contemplated for a moment. "I think you should be able to tell anyone you wish about Nicholas being the heir – he has already revealed himself as such in front of the whole Wizengamot today and I doubt it will be kept from public knowledge for long." He visibly dwelled on a thought. "You and Nicholas' soul bond should be kept a secret from all those who are not your family and closest friends, though."

Nicholas gravely spoke, "I made many enemies by declaring myself to the Wizengamot. There are sitting members on that government who, like we said earlier, would try anything to ensure I do not sit on the throne – there is a high chance they may threaten you to force me to relinquish my claim if they learned about our soul bond."

"You wouldn't renounce your claim though," Hermione started, but then paused at the look on Edwin and Nicholas' faces – like they both knew something that she did not. "Would you?" she asked unsurely.

Nicholas lowered his eyes to the satchel hanging from her shoulder. "It is . . . complicated. Those books should tell you everything you need to know about the extent of a soul bond. You will understand once you have read them all."

Edwin then continued, "The –" he lowered his voice to a whisper, " _Horcruxes_ – must not be discussed with anyone that is not a member of the Order of the Phoenix or anyone else that is neither Harry, Nicholas or myself. You may tell the prophecies to anyone I have mentioned as well as close friends who you are sure will fight beside you in the coming war."

Hermione smiled gratefully at the man.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

* * *

 _ **THE EVENING PROPHET**_

 _(12 August 1995)_

 _HEIR TO WIZRADING THRONE DECLARED AND HARRY POTTER CLEARED!_

 _By R. Almeidus_

 _The lost monarchy of our nation has recently been unearthed once again through the discovery of an heir. Those who were present during the Disciplinary Hearing of Harry Potter were allegedly subjected to many a surprise as what was supposed to be a routine case of underage sorcery in the company of a muggle quickly turned into His Royal Highness, Prince Nicholas's accession._

 _Some reporters were gathered outside the courtroom, hushed in excitement at the sight of a few Wizengamot members exiting the chamber – we all knew the hearing was over, and that the verdict was in, and now all that was left was to find out what that verdict was._

 _Many were confused at the sight of the infamous Lord Commander Desmond from the Druid Union by Harry Potter's side – further confusion followed the Lord Commander leading both Potter and who we did not then know then to be Prince Nicholas away from the crowds of reporters without answering a single question._

 _This led us all to look to any one of our leaders to answer the questions we had._

 _Our saviour came in the form of Madam Bones who stepped out of the chamber in all of her authoritative glory. The Head of the DMLE was quite shaken up and regarded us all like insects, incomparable to what had happened in the courtroom. Madam Bones soon shook off her stupor to tell us all to gather in the Ministry Atrium while she drafted an official statement for the press._

 _Needless to say, Madam Bones' request successfully had the media interested – and, by the time she had made it onto the Atrium's podium, thirty minutes from when she asked us to relocate, many other fellow reporters flooded in to hear what the Ministry had to say._

 _Minister Fudge was notably absent when Madam Bones began as she herself offhandedly mentioned that the Minister had "taken ill," and he had asked her to "make these declarations in his name." The truth of these words are questionable, especially taking into account the political tension between the two with the election coming up in a few years, but Madam Bones had not allowed us any time to ask more about the current state of Minister Fudge before she had swiftly continued by reading her statement._

 _Her starting announcement of Harry Potter's innocence from all charges against him due to the 'outstanding evidence,' presented by his attorney was unsurprising as we had all seen Potter walking free earlier. Bones ploughed on in her statements and finally declared, "The Heir to the Throne has been identified by the Old Magic of Avalon," causing an uproar unlike any seen before. Reporters and curious Ministry Employees had been taken aback and could not help but shout and jeer until she spoke again, "Prince Nicholas has expressed his apologies and promises he will be releasing an official statement of his own in time. The Ministry will be working very closely with him to ensure . . . (ctd. on pg. 2)_

* * *

 _LUCIUS MALFOY ARRESTED AND BONES POWERS OVER FUDGE_

 _By Rita Skeeter_

 _Slight unrest had followed the arrest of one Lucius Malfoy, high-ranking member of the Wizengamot and known close friend of Minister Fudge._

 _Lord Malfoy was reportedly dragged from his office by two aurors who were acting under the orders of Madam Bones. Most of the Ministry are pretty tight-lipped about the reasoning behind such an offence against such an ancient and noble family, but this reporter can only wonder whether this has something to do with Malfoy's questionable activities during the war against you-know-who where he had pleaded innocent for his actions on the charge of forceful-involvement through the implementation of the Imperius Curse._

 _It has been no secret how Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter have both quite recently claimed that the Dark Lord had returned. Due to this, there is the slight possibility that their assertions and the subsequent arrest of Lord Malfoy, someone who had been exonerated from admitted illegal activity under the terrifying rule of you-know-who, are not coincidental._

 _Fudge seemed rather upset as he hurriedly exited the Ministry after the Disciplinary Hearing of Harry Potter and had shaken off many reporters who dutifully asked for further insight on the matter of the arrest. Minister Fudge was visibly quivering and it was only revealed why when Madam Bones later stated the events occurring during the Hearing._

 _Though the exposures made in Courtroom 10 were shocking, Fudge's reaction begs the question whether the Minister is truly mentally capable of leading Wizarding Britain in the state of crisis it has now been thrown into. For the past few weeks, those close to the Minister have claimed that he has been 'out-of-sorts lately' and there are those who openly declare Madam Bones to be the better leader – as proven by the standing she had made as representative of the Ministry during her statements (ctd. on pg. 3)_

* * *

 _OTHER NEWS –_

 _SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT? (pg. 3)_

 _HISTORY OF THE ROYALS AND WHAT FOLLOWS ACCESSION (pg. 4)_

* * *

Lord Voldemort's crimson eyes flashed in fury and he screamed out, throwing the newest edition of the Evening Prophet at the face of his pathetic servant, Wormtail, who had faithfully delivered the offensive newspaper to him in Riddle House. The Dark Lord had skimmed through the evening edition, knowing that it was only published after significant events had occurred during the day that were not worth waiting until morning to write, and he was furious to feel some of his plans burning to crisp in his mind.

The past few weeks had been spent with Voldemort communicating with the giants – his greatest allies during the last war – through the envoys he had sent to them, attempting to build up his army while simultaneously gaining strength, magic, and confidence in his new body. The rest of his time was spent trying to figure out how to gain access to the Department of Mysteries. He had already attempted, twice already, to work out a way into the Chamber of Prophecies for one of his servants so that they may retrieve the prophecy he had briefly heard during the last war, just before he had been killed.

Lucius Malfoy was imperative in Voldemort's efforts; he was a high ranking member of the Ministry who was trusted by many. He was crucial in tracking those who were close to Dumbledore and who seemed to be aware of the prophecy, and then exploiting them with the Imperious Curse the second their back was turned in order to lead Malfoy to what Voldemort was searching for. Most of these attempts may had been thwarted, such as when Sturgis Podmore was unable to gain access to the Chamber of Prophecies and an Unspeakable was injured in his attempt to get at the prophecy. It had slowly become clear from other attempts that it was either Voldemort or Potter – the two who were mentioned in the prophecy – who would be able to retrieve it. Conversely, Lucius Malfoy's capture had just caused Voldemort to lose a strong foothold he had to gain access to the Ministry, consequently removing the chance he would do it himself unless he wished for an ensuing battle.

Voldemort clenched his crooked rotting teeth in irritation.

Potter had been cleared from all charges instead of being convicted and sentenced to Azkaban as Voldemort had believed he would be. Had the events occurred in that manner, Voldemort would have killed the little prick with a great level of ease. The Dark Lord was now instead left with complications and distractions that only served to make the boy even more aggravating than he had been before.

Distrust in the leadership of Minister Fudge had burned a large hole in the map which paved Voldemort's pathway to complete control over Wizarding Britain. Fudge was weak – exactly what Voldemort preferred to have in power before he took over. The Dark Lord did not know much about Madam Bones – all he had been able to find out was that she was one of the few in the Ministry who had remained uncorrupted by any influence outside of her own authority; neither money nor his followers had been able to sway her. Bones was strong, and that just would not do if she should succeed Fudge as Minister like her popularity would allow her to do.

Voldemort's long slender fingers slowly scratched at his chin, yellowing and cracked nails digging into the gaunt skin on his serpentine face. His frown transformed into a sickening sneer that made Wormtail whimper in fear as Voldemort thought of his biggest problem; that heir – the damned _Crown Prince_ was just another wall raised between the Dark Lord and the ultimate power he had been seeking since he was a sixteen-year-old schoolboy.

Voldemort clutched hard at his wand, unfeeling to the pain of his nails burrowing into his palm and drawing blood that was as scarlet as his eyes. He raised his wand, pointing it straight at the blubbering Wormtail. " _Crucio_ ," Voldemort hissed, watching the pathetic creature suddenly begin to convulse and shriek in the torment the Dark Lord was gifting to him.


	7. The Family

**CHAPTER VI – THE FAMILY**

 _ **THE DAILY PROPHET**_

 _(19 August 1995)_

 _SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT!_

 _PETER PETTIGREW TRUE TRAITOR!_

 _By R. Almeidus._

Hermione stared at the headline and smiled widely at what it declared, but then shook her head amusedly as her eyes lowered to the picture that accompanied the front-page story; Sirius was right there in the middle of the courtroom, throwing up both of his middle fingers towards the Wizengamot and Minister Fudge, their sneering expressions greatly offended and disgusted, while he laughed like a madman. Edwin stood beside Sirius in the moving picture as he watched Sirius' antics with an appearance of exasperation that, although saw the hilarity in the situation, still tried to remain professional.

She offhandedly hoped that there will come a day where Sirius will actually be sensible, though she quietly giggled at the image of Sirius winking and blowing a kiss to the camera, thinking, _I suppose that day doesn't have to be today._

The day after Nicholas and Edwin left Grimmauld Place, Hermione had asked Mrs. Weasley if arrangements could be made for her to go back home and, fortunately, she was met with nothing but understanding. After the issue was raised in the Order of the Phoenix meeting later that day, Dumbledore had given Tonks the thumbs-up when she volunteered to escort Hermione home. The Weasley children had been quite confused as they watched Sirius bring Hermione's trunk downstairs to the foyer in the evening, though Harry had only given her a knowing look. He, of course, knew exactly why Hermione had been going home – to tell her parents _everything_ – and she could see he was grateful for not having the same issue because his godfather had been in the room with both of them when they discovered everything about the prophecy and the prince.

Her departure, however justified it was, unfortunately left Harry with the task of telling the rest of the Weasley's in Grimmauld Place – especially Ron – what they so desperately wanted to know. There was the barest flash of disappointment on Harry's face when Hermione told him about the limitations of what he could tell their friends, namely the fact that the Horcruxes could not be discussed with anyone outside of Edwin, Nicholas, and the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione understood Harry's displeasure completely, especially considering what he had told her about how the Horcrux in his scar had been removed after his Disciplinary Hearing, but she nonetheless also understood the need for secrecy regarding the matter.

Hedwig, Harry's owl, let out a small _hoot_ from her perch in Hermione's bedroom, distracting the girl from her thoughts. The loyal owl was picking at the inside of her wings with her beak, cleaning them, waiting for Hermione read and pen a reply to the letter that had been delivered only five minutes ago. Hermione curiously scanned the little box Hedwig had also delivered that was currently lying on her desk and she idly tried to work out what it was. Using the letter-opener she kept on her desk to neatly cut the string Harry had messily double-knotted around the thick, rolled parchment in her hand, Hermione unfurled the letter and eagerly began reading what she knew would be a very happy correspondence from one of her best friends in the world.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I don't know if you've seen it yet, but Sirius was found innocent of everything!_

 _Desmond arrived early yesterday with some of the Druid Union's Knights and they took Sirius into the Ministry to make sure that he got a fair trial. There was some trouble, though, because Fudge apparently brought Dementors with him in the courtroom and he'd ordered them to kiss Sirius on sight, can you believe that?_

 _Desmond wasn't having any of that, of course. He and the other Knights protected Sirius and killed the Dementors while slapping Fudge with a fine of a thousand galleons from the International Confederation for interfering with justice or something like that. Really, Hermione, I don't know what you're still doing at Hogwarts. The more I'm hearing about these guys, the more I'm wanting to join them myself. They're absolute legends!_

 _Anyway, Prince Nicholas wrote to Sirius on the morning of the trial, wishing him luck and all that, and told him to go to Gringotts once he was found innocent – which he did because he was. The goblins there told Sirius that he was automatically made Head of House Black after his innocence was made official. Turns out he was never formally disowned by his family and he told me that this means he's got a seat on the Wizengamot where he'll have to listen and vote on important issues, which is kind of funny if I think about it._

 _Nicholas wrote to me, too, but I reckon he wasn't too pleased. When I got the you-know-what removed from my scar, I didn't have a clue on how I should interact with the goblins that were helping me (bite me, Hermione, I know Binns taught us, but I can't memorise like you can) so Nicholas gave me this goblin-written book about etiquette between wizards and goblins. He wasn't really being rude about it, but I could tell he wasn't really giving me a choice in reading the book, so I think I must have been really bad in Gringotts._

 _I already read some of it before I went to bed last night and I think the main things I got wrong were the customary address and my posture – both things I didn't do at all. I guess that Druid Knight who was in the room with me when I was getting the you-know-what out was right all along: it's a wonder how I wasn't killed in there._

 _Apart from my imminent death from stupidity, I hope you and your parents are alright. Sirius was asking about you just the other day, you know, wondering if everything's going well, saying that if you needed anything he'll always be willing to help._

 _Something just exploded outside my bedroom so I'm going to sign off here. I think Fred and George finally managed to wreck the house._

 _Love Harry._

 _P.S – Mrs. Weasley's shouting at Fred and George for accidentally setting off their experimental fireworks inside the house and she's started to confiscate their products. I'm really sorry, but they begged me to send some of their products in a box to you so their mum wouldn't be able to get at them._

 _We've sent most of them over to Lee, but there's only so much an owl can carry. Please help us out, Granger, we all know you're secretly a rebel. Harry told us how you set Snape's robes on fire as an ickle firstie so don't deny it! – Fred._

 _And we're sorry for springing this on you so suddenly, but Mum would have destroyed them and we know you're the one person who won't piss on hard work since you do so much of it yourself. We'll find you on the Hogwarts Express and take them back as soon as we can so you don't have to worry about anything – George._

Hearing about how Edwin had really stuck it to Fudge made Hermione overly happy. Her mouth spread out in a seemingly permanent beam as she read through the letter and got to the part where Edwin actually _fined_ the Minister for Magic. _Serves him right, the arse_ , Hermione thought, disgusted by the idea of Fudge pretty much plotting to murder Sirius by ordering the Dementors to kiss him. Hermione returned her eyes to the Daily Prophet newspaper on her desk, bending down slightly to skim through it, and saw that the trial was entirely fair with both Veritaserum and Pensieve testimonies being included in the defence. Glancing back at the image next to the headline, Hermione snorted again at the sight of Sirius giving a rather rude gesture to the Minister, she was now fully aware why Sirius was acting out so openly.

A rush of pride surged through Hermione as Harry mentioned wanting to join the Druid Union just because of how they were 'absolute legends,' and she wondered how hard it would really be for the Boy-Who-Lived to get into the organisation. Harry certainly had the merits and quite a few triumphs to be a more-than-considerable applicant and Hermione resolved to ask Edwin about it as soon as possible.

Drawn to Nicholas' name on the parchment, Hermione involuntarily smiled, recalling the last amusing encounter she had with him, pondering whether she was just in a good mood today or whether her face was simply responding to the foundations of an infatuation.

She vehemently denied the latter.

Crookshanks purred lowly as he twisted himself around Hermione's legs and rubbed up against her, leaving his scent on her, claiming her as his territory as he usually did; Hermione almost laughed as she leaned down and stroked the half-Kneazle behind his ear. "You need not worry, you know," she softly assured her pet, "Nicholas can't ever replace you, he won't ever know me like you do." Crookshanks released a furious _meow_ and seemed to glare at Hermione while she rolled her eyes, telling him: "You can't blame me for the soul bond, Crookshanks, if anything, you should be blaming fate . . ." She leaned back and shook her head. "You know what? You shouldn't be blaming fate either, unless you also want to blame the same thing that brought you and I together – or would you rather deny it was good fortune that allowed me to find your cage right at the back of the Magical Menagerie the day before you were meant to be put down?"

Bright orange eyes were lit with fury and Hermione pointedly stared back at the stubborn feline to whom they belonged until he ultimately narrowed his eyes, tilted his head down, and rubbed himself against Hermione again like he was saying: " _Fine, but I still don't like it._ "

Turning her attention back to Harry's letter, Hermione thought it was quite apparent that Nicholas had arranged for Sirius to be seen by the goblins about his place as Head of House Black. She deliberated if this was just because the prince was trying to help or that he really needed Sirius on the Wizengamot – her rationality pointed her towards the latter. Whatever the reasoning, Hermione still completely agreed with Harry's assessment of the situation; Sirius having to sit through the Wizengamot meetings with all other pureblood snobs Daphne had assured her were present was an entirely amusing thought to have.

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten, taking a deep breath in and letting it all out through her nose, after she read about Harry not having a clue how he should act around goblins. _For Merlin's sake, this is third-year stuff_ , she shook her head and planned to very thoroughly reprimand him in her reply. However, Harry disclosing that Nicholas had passed him a 'goblin-written,' book brought Hermione's immediate plans to a halt as excitement began taking over her mind. After a small debate in her head, Hermione decided that not telling Harry off for risking another goblin war was a sacrifice she was willing to make to have a better chance of getting her hands on such a rarity of a tome.

The very sudden ending of the letter caused Hermione to raise both eyebrows. It appeared, at first, that Fred and George wrecking the house was only an excuse to cut the letter short, but, as Hermione skimmed through the post script, she glared up at her ceiling in annoyance. Hermione would have appreciated Fred and George being a bit less infuriating this year, but now they were actually raising the bar by having the gall to get her involved in their shenanigans; the very fact that George had attempted to emotionally blackmail her into helping them, suggesting that their products were made from their very hard work, indicating that she would be the only one to understand hard work, did not help either – especially considering that it was working!

The twins had allowed Hermione into their room at one point in Grimmauld Place, allowing her to witness how they made their products, and confiding in her, at one point, that their biggest and only dream from when they were little boys was to open their own joke shop. Hermione's heart had swelled for them and she became vulnerable enough to even help them place more suitable charms on their prototype for the Aviatomobile – a toy car they had bewitched to fly – which was a product they were aiming for the younger, more easily entertained, customers they would have.

Fred and George were so blatantly passionate about what they were doing, and they were one of the few people in the entire world who had the ability to get a proper belly-laugh out of Hermione, that there was a part of her that could not help but hope they succeed in getting what they want, particularly since she found out they were getting closer and closer to their goal ever since Harry had given them his winnings for the Triwizard Tournament.

With that, Hermione deliberated how she would get payback from the pranksters as she pulled out her school trunk from under her bed and packed away the little box their products had arrived in in the enlarged compartment at the front so that she could easily remove it later when they come to retrieve it on the train to Hogwarts.

It was as she was placing the box inside her trunk that the voice of Hermione's mother resounded around the Granger home, " _Hermione!_ "

"Yes, Mum?" Hermione returned.

" _Could you come here?_ " she requested.

Hermione answered, "Give me a second!"

Closing her trunk and securing it, Hermione used her foot to push it back under her bed. She then stepped back over to her desk and pulled out one of the drawers to remove the owl treats she kept there, presenting Hedwig with the reward for a job well done by laying a pile of the treats on her worktop, unworried about any kind of mess since she knew Hedwig rarely even let one speck go to waste. For a moment, Hermione watched as Hedwig flew down from her perch to begin her feast before the girl stood to leave her bedroom.

When Hermione had returned home, she was welcomed warmly by her parents whom she had, admittedly, not seen much of in the past four years; a little fact that became the cause of quite the bit of conflict within the small family.

Understandably, Hermione's parents grew quite aggravated with her as she had begun to spend more time with her friends rather than spend any time alone with them. Arguments had arisen, mostly circled around Hermione not even coming home for Christmas as she had done in her first-year at Hogwarts. Hermione's mother had even pulled her aside, at one point, to talk to her daughter directly, without the interference of her easily-frustrated husband, asking her if she was doing enough as a mother, openly wondering if it was her not doing enough that was causing Hermione to distance herself.

Shame wrought through Hermione when she saw the tears in her mother's eyes, knowing that she was the sole reason why they were present, and the answers to the questions being thrown dodged her just as she guiltily avoided her mum's saddened gaze – the familiar look of hurt and abandonment was something Hermione could not bear to see.

Tears had been shed that day and Hermione's apologies were made with nothing but forgiveness and love as a response; the family that was all but lost had found one another once again. Through everything, Hermione came to the realisation that she had known what kind of person she did not want to be for a long time, and she had broken the main promise she had made as she peeked through the crack in the doorway to her crying mother eleven years ago.

 _I won't ever hurt you, mummy – just please stop crying . . . I won't hurt you . . ._

Hermione felt it was her duty to rectify the wrongs she had made in the past few years; she told her parents everything, without holding back anything. Through the gap between their world and the world their daughter had found herself to be a part of grew more visible with the lack of comprehension the parents had for certain concepts such as the realism of prophecies and magical kings along with the existence of soul bonds.

While Hermione had been fully able to explain what prophecies were and how they were made, she had to admit to her mother and father that she pretty much knew as much as they did on the subject of soul bonds. This left her with little choice but to let them borrow the books Nicholas had given her.

Treading through her childhood home, Hermione's feet brought her to her parents' bedroom. She peeked in from the open door she felt her love for them sweep through her body, almost bringing her to her knees, as she stumbled upon the sight of her mum pointing at a certain passage in the book in front of her, reciting it out loud so that her dad could jot it down on his favourite notepad – both sat on their neatly-made queen sized bed, with a number of the other books Hermione had passed along to them surrounding them.

Hermione observed the clear proof of how much they loved her in their scrunched eyebrows and attentive eyes, as if noting down the passages was the most important thing they could be doing with their time. They were doing all they could to bridge the gap made by the separation of their worlds and grasp onto her as tightly as they could; their longing to understand what had caused Hermione to show up home with a sombre face was enough to power them through four books full of notions completely foreign to them and finally know the basic theory of soul bonds in the magical world.

Emma Granger neè Williams was a young woman of relatively average height, being only a few inches taller than her daughter. She had chestnut brown hair which fell straight down her back, her light brown eyes, similar to her daughter's own eyes, swivelled towards the door as she noticed Hermione by the threshold. "Come in," said Emma, smiling faintly. "You aren't any use out there."

Hermione returned her mother's smile and walked into the room. "You both seem to be studying really hard," she observed. "When's the test?"

"When I get to cuff that bloody prince right in his royal face," muttered Richard Granger. He was a full head taller than his wife, had blue eyes paired with sandy blonde hair that was steadily getting ashy with age, and had a little bit of stubble around his chin which suggested he may not have been bothered to shave in the morning.

Hermione felt a rush of sudden fury at the threat that Richard made, and she was about to say something, but her mother beat her to the punch.

" _Richard_ ," Emma snapped warningly. "There is no need."

The man shook his head while writing the last of the passage his wife had recited and then moved his pen up to an earlier note, circling the quotation. He then held it out towards Hermione who took it from his hands with a questioning look in her eyes.

"Just read it," said Richard.

Throwing another curious glance at her dad, Hermione read the circled note out loud: " _The loss of a bond mate through death, rejection, or forceful breakage of the bond holding them together always has disastrous consequences_." Reading through it once again, Hermione let the sentence comprehend in her mind before she turned back to Richard. "I thought we'd already gone through this, Dad," said Hermione. "This won't be an issue because I didn't reject Nicholas, and any chance of us trying to break the bond is off since we read about the couple that tried the same thing but one of them were horribly killed in the process. Above all of that, Nicholas nor I have any intention of dying anytime soon so there's no way any of us are going to suffer any disastrous consequences."

"The resolution you've already made isn't his issue," Emma scowled. "Your father is thinking about what could have happened if you said no."

"Don't look at me like that," Richard frowned at Emma, gesturing at their daughter, "Hermione didn't know anything about soul bonds, she said it herself."

Hermione averted her eyes, feeling awful about being the centre cause of an argument between her parents. "I never thought the subject was important enough to know anything about."

Richard rolled his eyes. "So the almighty prince let you make a life-or-death decision without even knowing if you had all the facts. That's kind of _stupid_ of him, isn't it?"

Hermione's jaw clenched and she saw red again. "Don't ever call him stupid if you know what's good for you," she snarled threateningly, rising to her feet much to her family's shock. The foreign fragment wedged to her own soul wished for retribution for the slight made against him, but it calmed as Hermione shook herself out of his control and her logical mind came back to the forefront. Confusion at her behaviour presented itself in her expression and she lowered herself back down to the bed. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to –"

"It's alright, sweetheart," Richard sighed, indicating the books laid about him, "all of these have said that those who have been recently bonded may be a little more on the irritated side when it comes to the person they've bonded to being distanced from them."

"Richard," called Emma, waiting until he faced her to tell him, "Prince Nicholas placed a great deal of faith in Hermione's kindness when he let her choose whether they could be friends, that's all. He made sure Hermione wasn't _completely_ clueless, I mean –" Emma turned to her daughter. "What was it Nicholas told you again?"

"Um –" Hermione wracked her brain to recall what her mother was referring to, recounting it as soon as she had remembered the memory: "If I gave him the peace of companionship, the bond wouldn't be detrimental to what we both want in out lives."

Emma pointedly stared at Richard, driving home her point, "Hermione knew enough to know it would be dangerous if she rejected him. Apart from that, I highly doubt there would have been any situation where they could have been any logic in rejecting him. What was Hermione to do after hearing that prophecy? 'Hey, I won't be your friend, but let's work together for this war anyway!' Where's the sense in that, Richard? Nicholas is most certainly not stupid – a bit on the dangerously optimistic side, but he's not stupid."

"Fine – he's not an idiot," granted Richard, wearily glancing at Hermione in the corner of his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I'm happy with this whole situation; it doesn't change the fact that Hermione hasn't got a choice in partner, it doesn't change that she's bloody well involved in a war she shouldn't be anywhere near!" Richard threw his hands up in frustration.

Emma nodded in agreement, reaching out and pulling Hermione towards her by the hand. "You're fifteen years old," stated Emma as Hermione seated herself on the edge of the bed, still holding her mum's hand. "They can't expect you to fight, surely."

Hermione sighed. "Frankly, they've done much worse."

"Bugger them all then!" yelled Richard, angrily pacing away from the book-ridden bed.

Emma gasped, "Richard!"

Richard spun round, ignoring his wife's warning, and walked straight to Hermione. Lowering himself in front of her, he implored: "Just accept that offer from the Druid Institute, Hermione. We'll move to Rome – leave the madness behind while we do it – and you'll be safe away from the arseholes who need children fighting their battles for them."

Hermione's face softened in tenderness for the tempered man that helped raise her and she allowed a sad smile to grace her face. "It's too late for that," she said.

He furrowed his light eyebrows at her words, staring at her for a moment longer before he lowered his head to look at her lap and exhale through his nose in resignation. "The prophecy . . ."

"All prophecies have their own power – their own magic," explained Hermione, "and it's hard to escape a prophecy, especially once you've heard it; it sticks in your mind like glue and it'll always have its way of following you, wherever you go. I'm going to be a part of this, regardless of if even the whole world being against it."

"Logically, it makes sense," Emma acknowledged. "You're connected to the war because you and the prince are supposed to share the equal parts of the power that'll help Harry defeat this – uh – Dark Lord. And if you were to join the Druid Union; for one thing, the bond will become extremely unstable because of how far you both will be from each other, and for another, Edwin is the Lord Commander of the Union and he will be involved in the war because of his job, so it'll only be a roundabout situation –"

"Just taking Hermione a bit longer to get tangled in the fuckery," Richard muttered lowly.

Emma narrowed her eyes at her husband and reached an arm behind her, gripping a throw pillow, and whipping it through the air to _whack_ Richard across the cheek. Richard yelled out and Hermione fought to keep her face straight, reigning in the laughter bubbling in her chest; Emma Granger never really liked Richard's potty mouth.

"Do you need me to remind you we have a fifteen-year-old daughter?" Emma questioned, pulling the pillow back and hitting him again – this time, on the shoulder. "Control your language or move your things downstairs and sleep on the sofa."

"Hey," Richard pouted, "I don't see Hermione having a problem with it."

"Hermione doesn't have a say in what goes on in this house," snapped Emma.

Hermione tried to protest, "Actually, I –"

"No," Emma interjected before she could even finish her argument, "you don't."

Hermione pursed her lips, bemused, and she glanced at Richard who was grinning towards Emma like she was offering him greater entertainment than even the television. Inwardly, Hermione pondered over if this was how all husbands acted – deciding that, if it _was_ how they all acted, and she had to live to see that annoying grin every time she was angry, she did not want to get married.

Richard's blue eyes were glinting as he held Emma's irritated gaze and suggested, "Maybe it's time we tell her?"

"Now?" asked Emma, looking between him and Hermione, suddenly a little nervous.

"Better than never," Richard shrugged.

Hermione glanced at both of her parents expectedly. "Tell me what?"

Emma and Richard held each other's stares for a moment longer. Emma then turned from him and reached for Hermione's hand once again, grasping it gently and allowing their fingers to intertwine. She moved their joint hands towards her torso and lightly turned over Hermione's hand so that her daughter's palm pressed against the lower half of her stomach. The woman smiled gently and simply waited; for what, Hermione had no clue.

Knitting her eyebrows, Hermione told her mother, "You're acting really odd, you know."

Richard snorted and Hermione tilted her head at him, silently asking for some help in this riddle.

"You're a really clueless girl sometimes," Richard chuckled.

Utterly bewildered, Hermione shook her head and faced Emma again. "Mum, I –"

Cutting herself off, Hermione gasped, widening her eyes as she cast them down on her hand on Emma's abdomen and then back up to Emma's face. "You're . . . I mean, you're – are you really?" Hermione's words spewed out in a jumbled mess, reflecting the disorder of her mind at that moment.

"Yes, I really am," Emma smiled.

Hermione attempted to process the realisation. "But you said – you said you couldn't –"

"That I couldn't have any more?" Emma finished. "Doctor Travers told me it's a miracle –"

"A nice miracle," said Richard.

"A wonderful miracle," Emma agreed.

Hermione rapidly blinked her shining eyes. "I mean . . . when –"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you want to know exactly when, darling."

Hermione choked. " _No, I do not_ ," she uttered, and then corrected herself, "When did you _find out?_ "

"A month ago," answered Richard. "Your mum reckoned it'd be better if we waited until after the first trimester to tell you – the first three months are the hardest, so they say."

"There are still going to be some complications," said Emma, "but, for the most part, there'll be a healthy baby at the end of it all." She raised her hand and stroked Hermione's face. "What are you thinking, love? Are you angry at us?"

Hermione lifted her own hand and held her mother's against her face, a bright smile blooming on her face like the first flower in spring. "I'm really happy," she assured. "I'm just surprised – you caught me off guard, is all." Hermione paused for a second, thinking, then she asked: "So you're three months pregnant?"

Emma nodded. "If all goes to plan, I'll be due in February."

Shoulders sinking in dejection, Hermione frowned, "I'm going to be at Hogwarts then."

"They'll probably allow you leave on the weekend because of the circumstance," said Richard. "We'll write, if you're worried about it."

"I want to see the baby when it comes," Hermione responded longingly as she looked down at her mother's belly and whispered, "I never thought I'd be a big sister –" She laughed brightly, "Daphne's going to be ecstatic."

Emma hummed amusedly. "To be really honest, I never thought I'd get to have another baby –" she took a peek at her husband who merely smiled joyously, and then looked back at her daughter, "and I wouldn't be surprised if Daphne was thrilled to hear it – the amount of time she spends here, this'll be her little brother or sister, too."

Hermione grinned at the joke, distantly thinking of how much her parents deserved this chance to have one more child; they had always wished, but medical complications had led to it being deemed impossible – until now.

"Hermione," called Richard as he waved his hand in front of her face to throw her out of her thoughts. Hermione raised her head to look up at her dad just as he began speaking again, "Your mum and I – well – we just wanted you to know that this won't change anything between the three of us." He gripped Hermione's hand tightly and poured all of his affection in his next words, "You'll still be our daughter – our first child – and you can always come to us with whatever you want, whenever you want, just like you could if we wouldn't be having another baby."

Emma began, "We're going to be quite busy with preparations and check-ups –"

"Most of which you won't be here for," Richard said, smiling.

"– and there might be a point where I'll be more of a moody cow than your actual mum," Emma admitted, gripping Richard's hand as it laid on top of Hermione's, "but none of that will _ever_ overshadow how much I love you . . . how much _both_ of us love you."

"We'll always be here for you, sweetheart," said Richard. "Whether it's that prophecy, or the prince, or the baby, we want to know when you're feeling overwhelmed or alone – we want to help you, alright?"

Tightness enveloped Hermione's throat as she was overcome with fondness at the utter devotion and support her parents offered her so freely. "I – I know, Dad," she stuttered faintly, then looked over to her mum. "I love you, too – both of you."

 **-o0o0o0o-**

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Sirius' picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet was honestly pleasing to see. I'm so glad he's been declared innocent._

 _Fudge getting a fine from Edwin really made my day and the thought of being able to slap that fine on him for nearly murdering Sirius myself is incredibly tempting, though I'm afraid I'd rather finish my studies at Hogwarts before moving on to the Druid Union. That way, I won't have to go over four years' worth of content on the new subjects I could (would) take along with the ones I've already picked for my OWL's – I wouldn't want to be left behind, you know?_

 _I can see where Sirius taking his place on the Wizengamot is funny. I truly look forward to the day I'll open up my Daily Prophet to several articles calling him crude or something along those lines the day after he'd shouted at the other members. Besides that, Sirius being at the Ministry could be good, especially since he'll be able to spy on their meetings for Nicholas and the Order._

 _On another note, you're a ridiculous human being._

 _Have you ever even looked in your third-year History of Magic textbook? No, I know now that you haven't. If you had, you would know how the lack of manners between wizards and goblins had actually caused full-scale goblin wars in the past. I've sent you my own textbook along with this letter just in case you've lost you own copy, which I have a good feeling you have. We'll be sitting our OWL's in just a few months so you might as well get started._

 _Nicholas was kind to give you that goblin etiquette book. I've got to admit that I'm quite interested in it since goblin-written books are quite hard to come by – please let me borrow it after you're done!_

 _Fred and George are the banes of my existence and you're annoying for helping them. Let them know their stuff got here safe, but I'll toss it out of the window of the Hogwarts Express if they don't retrieve it within an hour of the train's departure from King's Cross._

 _Love Hermione._

 _P.S – I'll kill you if you lose my textbook._

Harry grinned and allowed the nervous Fred and George to read Hermione's letter. Upon hearing about Hedwig returning, Fred and George had rushed Harry up to his bedroom so he could read the letter straight away. It was apparent they were nervous about the state of their remaining products and Harry admitted that he relished seeing the normally confident twins like this.

Watching them impatiently skim through the parts of the letter that did not concern them, Fred and George released twin breaths of relief as they finally read Hermione's guarantee of safety for their products so long as they got them back in the time-frame she had given.

"Blimey," said George as handed the letter back to Harry. "Hermione's getting confident."

"Who _wouldn't_ be confident after finding out that they're soul bound to the future king?" asked Fred, shrugging, "I know I'd be."

George grinned at his brother and threw an arm around Harry's shoulders. "You know," he leaned down and whispered dramatically into the boy's ear, "I reckon Freddie fancies Prince Nicholas, how about you?"

" _Oi!_ " Fred cried, "He's actually quite good looking –"

George argued, "His nose is a little funny –"

Fred pointed his finger at George and retorted, "But he's still good looking."

Sirius chuckled faintly from where he had sat on Harry's bed. "Don't you boys let Hermione hear you say any of that – and I'm not joking."

Harry exchanged disconcerted looks with Fred and George. "Why not?" he ultimately inquired.

"Because Dumbledore told the Order about how Hermione and Nicholas are going to be sort of . . . sensitive – due to the development of their bond," replied Sirius. "He was pretty serious about it, telling us that he's going to have to make sure the students won't disrespect Nicholas, talking about getting them to attend compulsory lessons on the protocols surrounding royals. Dumbledore even told McGonagall to keep an extremely watchful eye on Hermione's dorm mates. I'm not entirely sure how Prince Nicholas and Hermione are going to be sensitive, but I do know that jealousy is one of the strongest emotions any human is capable of."

Fred scrunched up his face and snorted, "You're basically saying that McGonagall's going to keep an eye on Hermione's dorm mates and we should keep careful about what we say because she might get jealous if any one of us mention that Prince Nicholas is good looking."

Sirius shrugged. "I'm only saying Hermione's magic may react instinctually to anything it perceives as threatening to her well-being – that includes other potential suitors who might try to steal what her magic already deems is hers."

" _Threatening?_ " George exclaimed. "Hermione knows us – she'll know we're only having a laugh."

"Your mind and your magic work separately," Sirius maintained. "Hermione may know you guys are joking, but her magic could very easily think you're being serious. The soul bond itself is enforced with both her and her soul mate's magic – and, right now, that bond is extremely delicate, like glass that could break any minute." He took a breath as he watched the others still being incredulous and then asked them: "How long have you all known Hermione?"

Harry answered, "We've all known her since her first-year so that's a little more than four years."

Fred and George nodded their agreement of the estimation.

Sirius hummed. "Hermione's known you for four years then," he lingered for a moment, "yet she's known the prince for far longer . . ."

Harry shook his head. "She only met him a week ago."

"And it's here you all realise Hermione and Prince Nicholas are _soul_ bound," said Sirius. "It was fate that determined their union long ago as one that was essential for a peaceful future – their lives were foretold, their souls were _bound_ , and it's their magic that is able to recognise this." Sirius turned back to George. "Hermione's magic will take action against you regardless of how long and how well she knows you; when it's her life on the line, any sign of hostility or malice shown towards her or her bonded will trigger the natural aggressive response for survival found in all magical creatures."

George tilted his head back as he understood, "Accidental magic – the bond's weak right now so her magic will attack anything to ensure nothing happens to it –"

"Because both Hermione and Prince Nicholas will die if the bond breaks," Fred realised.

Gravely, Sirius nodded. "Theoretically."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at Hermione's letter still in his hand, gripping it a little tighter. "How long till the bond's stronger?"

Sirius made a sort of _whoosh_ sound with his mouth as he thought about the question. "I honestly haven't the slightest clue," he admitted. "There have been romanticisms created about what the completion of a bond could be, but none of them are supported by any kind of evidence. All Dumbledore's told us is that close proximity is necessary for the bond to develop and Hermione won't be seeing Nicholas very often while she's at Hogwarts – meaning it could be ages before it matures."

Harry sighed. "I don't think Ron could watch his mouth around Hermione for that long."

"You're concerned he'll say something that will anger her?" asked Sirius.

Fred and George snorted at once.

"When _doesn't_ he say something that angers her?" George questioned in return.

Fred frowned. "He usually blurts out the first thing that comes into his mouth without thinking it through – a defining flaw for our little brother."

"We should make sure Mum and Dad have a little chat with Ronnie about this," said George. "I mean; it could be dangerous if he actually _does_ push Hermione too far."

Fred raised an eyebrow and retorted, "Mum and Dad have been trying to persuade Ron to stop being a thick-head since the dawn of time."

George shrugged, getting up from his seat. "No harm in trying again, though."

Fred looked at George for a moment longer and then followed his lead, stretching slightly once he had stood up. "Did Hermione write anything for us in the postscript?" Fred indicated the letter Harry still gripped in his hand.

"Nah," replied Harry. "She just warned me not to lose her textbook," he tapped the History of Magic Vol. 3 textbook that laid beside him on his bed, "else she'll kill me."

"Better not lose it then!" George laughed with Fred as they exited the room.

Listening to their laughter fading away, Sirius' lips turned up ever so slightly. "I've got to say, those two could've given James and I a run for our money."

There was a child-like desire to know more about his parents that always filled Harry whenever his godfather got reminiscent like this and his green eyes widened in innocent curiosity. "You two were like Fred and George?"

"Two peas in a pod," replied Sirius. "James was family to me after . . . after I was deemed unfit to live in the same house as my parents for simply not believing in the same ideals as them – not that I was complaining, of course." His blue eyes gazed into the distance, recalling memories of a better time, smiling at the rumination. "James' mother and father – your grandparents – offered me their home and there wasn't a night your dad and I wouldn't spend planning future pranks for when we were back at Hogwarts."

Harry had never heard anything about his grandparents before now, and he knew there must have been only one reason why that was so, but he still needed to know. "What happened to my grandparents?"

Sirius clamped his eyes shut like he was in a great deal of pain and Harry momentarily regretted questioning him about the subject, but then his godfather told him, "They were one of the first victims of the war." He unclenched his eyes and angled his head so he was staring at the ceiling, avoiding Harry's gaze completely. "Their deaths fuelled the fire for one of the only fights I'd ever had with your dad. The murderer was my first cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and I suppose grief clouded James' judgement – I mean, it clouded mine as well – and he thought that maybe I had something to do with what happened, and that just riled me up. I spent seven bloody years as his best friend, about two of those living with him and his family, and he _still_ thought I was capable of betraying him."

Running a hand through the tangled hair that fell on his shoulders, Sirius continued, "Lily didn't take long to set us both straight with each other – she got us grieving properly, and we all buried your grandparents together as a family."

Harry's heart wrenched, but, surprisingly, it was not for his grandparents, nor for his parents; his godfather had lost so much, all the while being so young, and Harry could not help but feel sympathetic for the man. Harry had spent a lot of his own life wallowing, wondering what his family was like, wishing them all to be alive so he could finally know if they had ever loved him. Listening to Sirius speak with that broken voice he knew all too well, however, he had finally begun feeling sorry for someone other than himself – and it was strangely liberating.

"Maybe we can visit all of their graves," Harry eventually suggested. "I don't think they've seen much of their family in a long time – assuming they've been visited by anyone at all."

Sirius' head snapped to Harry. "You think we're family?"

Harry met Sirius' searching eyes that spoke volumes of his surprise and nodded. "We're as good as."

The side of Sirius' mouth was up in a half-smile as he released a breathy laugh. "You really do remind me of both your mum and dad," said Sirius as he parted his new deep navy dress robes that he had bought from Madam Malkin's right after he had gained his pardon. He reached into an inside breast pocket to pull something out, "Well, if you really think we're family –"

"You're my godfather, you _are_ family," Harry resolutely declared.

Laughing once again, the shaggy-haired man pulled out a piece of parchment that had been folded in half to accommodate his small pocket. "Then I hope you won't protest against this." Sirius handed the parchment over to Harry who knitted his eyebrows slightly before unfolding it and reading it:

 _ **LET IT BE KNOWN**_ _that we, James Potter and Lily Potter neè Evans, appoint Sirius Black to be our lawful attorney-in-fact regarding our underage child: Harry James Potter, born on the 31_ _st_ _of July, 1980, due to either disability or our untimely deaths._

 _We hereby grant to the attorney-in-fact, all of our powers regarding the care and guardianship of the above-named child, except our power to consent to marriage and our power to see, transfer, convey or otherwise manage any real or personal property belonging to our underage child – all of which mentioned will be issued to the child once he is of-age – as specified below:_

 _Enrol the child in school._

 _Have access to school records and participate in decisions regarding the child's education, including attending meetings with the school board where they are required._

 _Obtain medical health treatment and make health care decisions on behalf of the child._

 _Provide for the child's food, lodging, housing, recreation, and travel._

 _The rights, power, and authority herein granted shall remain in full force from the date of our incapacitation until the following event occurs: the order is terminated by a written Revocation of Guardianship signed by us._

Harry scanned the parchment again in disbelief. "I'm – you're my . . . you're my guardian?"

"Yes," replied Sirius. "The Lord Commander told me it'd be better if I appealed for your guardianship while I was on trial, too – just so I wouldn't have to go to court a second time because they decided to make out a fuss out of my rights again. There wasn't much I had to do, just show my memories of witnessing your mum and dad's last will and testament, and the rest was obviously done for me," he indicated the document in Harry's clutch.

Harry could feel himself getting ahead of himself, getting excited, and it was dangerous. "So – So I don't have to go back to the Dursley's?"

The question was timid and Harry steeled himself for the answer that would absolutely crush him; it was quite obvious he never really got what he wanted.

"Not as long as I've got something to say about it," said Sirius.

A blinding, beaming smile gradually lit up Harry's face in the delight of something finally turning around in his world.

 **-o0o0o0o-**

"How? How the hell did a Basilisk get into Hogwarts, Dumbledore?" Edwin yelled, his voice getting hoarser with every word he spat at the Headmaster. "And what part of that seemed acceptable enough for you to think it would be alright for this to go unreported in the International Confederation?"

Nicholas leant back on his chair in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts as he evenly observed the entertainment he was surely going to be offered with a mixture of awe and righteousness, having tried and not being able to think of any other instance that he had seen Edwin lose his composure so thoroughly, and also believing the loss of control to be completely justified; thinking on it a moment more, the prince related this experience to the very first time he had seen Ragnarok fight a duel for his honour.

Edwin had been the intermediary between Nicholas and Dumbledore for the past week and all three individuals had reached an agreement, deciding that whatever they needed to discuss was better left to be conversed in person rather than on parchment. Despite knowing this was mostly done so they could keep up a slight advantage over Lord Voldemort, Nicholas could not help but feel there was a selfish air around Edwin making the suggestion in the first place; this instinct, it now turned out, was not unfounded. Though Nicholas was infuriated by the tales Harry had told him, he was fully aware that his anger was probably no match against Edwin's fury at hearing about Hermione's involvement in the adventures.

Dumbledore attempted to defend himself, "The situation was under control, Edwin –"

"Do not presume you can speak my name!" shouted Edwin, "Hermione was meant to be safe, she was meant to be _protected!_ "

The Headmaster conceded, lifting his hands up in surrender, and calmly responded: "I am aware of how much Miss. Granger means to you, Lord Commander – I understand you are upset –"

"Upset? No, I am not upset – frankly, I passed upset quite some time ago," assured Edwin, his rushed words as frosty as a chilly day in winter. "And you do not have a single clue of how important she is to me, Dumbledore. I should inform you there are very few people in the world that know Hermione Granger is my _apprentice_."

Nicholas could not help but incline forward slightly at Edwin's declaration; Hermione being Edwin's apprentice had been a secret Nicholas had been aware of for some time now – Edwin having told him long ago – but it was shocking that Edwin was choosing to give Dumbledore this piece of intimate information, too.

"A-Apprentice?" whispered Dumbledore. "The stone – your stone – it chose her?"

"Yes," Edwin sneered, "My Legacy Stone indicated she was in danger eleven years ago – that is how I found her – and I fully intend to train her to succeed my position of Knight Commander once I retire."

Although Nicholas would have once said the Druid Hierarchy was something that utterly befuddled him, he now found it was much easier to understand since he had become more aware of the politics in the wizarding world.

From what Nicholas had been told and had himself observed, there were thirteen top members of the Druid Union, all of whom were known as the prestigious Knight Commanders. From these thirteen members, an election would take place every five years to determine a Lord Commander who would also be the Headmaster of the Druid Institution – he or she would become the overseer of all working operations and highest ranking official in the organisation. Edwin himself had been first elected as this official back in 1980 when he was only thirty years old – the youngest Lord Commander of the century – and he completed a full-term before being re-elected in 1985, and again in 1990.

Being Lord Commander for so many years, Edwin was privy to countless secrets kept by, not only the Druid Union, but the world's magical governments; the first example of which came into Nicholas' mind almost instantly: his existence itself had been surreptitious for many years despite his common visits to the Druid Union's Headquarters for the past few years. Edwin's loyalty to the Druids and their mysteries was unquestionably relentless, but there was an incident that occurred some time ago that allowed Nicholas hold in his mind one of the greatest secrets they ever kept, and will continue to keep long after he would pass from this world.

The Legacy Stones were unconfirmed legends to Nicholas. When simply asking Edwin about their existence brought no fruition, Nicholas' curiosity burned – along with his bravery – and he had gone in search for Edwin's Legacy Stone on one of his many visits to the Lord Commander's home. Nicholas had found the Legacy Stone lying inside Jane Desmond's jewellery box, yes, but his victory was cut short as the event became one of the very few times Edwin had ever lost his temper with the prince.

" _You have violated my privacy!"_

Nicholas painfully clenched up his face at the memory of Edwin's anger, cringing as he became aware of how much of a stupid little boy he had been. Back then, when he was eleven-years-old, if you had asked him what he thought, Nicholas would have been stubborn and believed Edwin was simply being harsh by escorting him back to the palace, punishing him by doing so because he did not allow him to receive the piano lesson from Jane that he so looked forward to every week. Nicholas winced, recalling how he had wept himself to sleep that night, greatly distressed as he thought of the man he looked up to being disappointed in him.

Thankfully, Edwin had not allowed Nicholas to stew in dismay for long as he had roused Nicholas from his fitful sleep the next morning. It was clear that Edwin had felt as guilty as Nicholas did and they both made their peace with each other once Edwin had explained the reason for his strictness.

Legacy Stones were cherished relics carried only by the Knight Commanders of the Druid Union. They had been passed down from several hundred generations of Knight Commanders who had used them for the purpose of detecting possible heirs – apprentices – to their positions. Each individual Legacy Stone magically aided its owner in this endeavour by tapping into their very essence; their magic, their personality, their physical strengths, and weaknesses, then used these specific attributes to seek an appropriate apprentice.

Nicholas acknowledged the importance of these Legacy Stones as being the ancient artefacts essential for the continuation of the elite within the Druid Hierarchy, although he also noted that the stones were added proof of Hermione's significance in the prophecy after he found out that she was Edwin's apprentice.

"So I am not upset, Headmaster," repeated Edwin, "I am absolutely _infuriated_. I had entrusted Hermione's education to Hogwarts – to _you_ – but, instead of educating her as it should have, this school had been testing her, life and limb, every single year, without fail. Where the _hell_ were you when those muggleborn were being petrified? Why was the school not evacuated after those attacks? Am I wrong to have thought it was your responsibility as Headmaster of Hogwarts to ensure the safety of your students? From what I have heard from Harry and Hermione, you have seriously, matchlessly, neglected your duty to your students – to _them_."

Dumbledore lowered his gaze. "I _have_ made blunders, Lord Commander," he admitted. "I don't deny that both Miss. Granger and Mr. Potter have been in preventable situations under my care. There is no inch of me that does not agree I should have evacuated the school after the first attacks and made sure that it remained abandoned until the threat was removed."

Edwin narrowed his eyes. "Why had you not done so?"

"I had no way of knowing if the attacks were one-off or if they would be reoccurring," explained Dumbledore. "Months had passed since the first attack and I had assumed that it would not happen again –"

"But then it did happen again," snarled Edwin. "It happened another three times and, even then, the school was not evacuated, the proper authorities were not alerted, and Hermione – my apprentice – had to suffer for that incompetence!"

Dumbledore refused to face Edwin's rage and avoided looking at him.

Edwin turned his head to the side and took a deep breath to try and calm himself, but wrathful trembles still visibly rocked his body. "I need answers, Dumbledore," said Edwin, "I need to know what you were thinking – if you were even thinking at all."

Dumbledore glanced fleetingly at the silent Nicholas who only frowned in response. The Headmaster finally spoke hesitantly: "By the time of the third attack, I had been able to figure out that the creature was a Basilisk. There hadn't been any deaths thus far and I thought it better to hunt down the creature myself while allowing the person conducting the attacks to think I had no idea so the search was easier."

Nicholas clenched down on his teeth to stop himself from crying out his outrage. Dumbledore's words were sugar-coated, but Nicholas caught the true meaning behind them: if he had evacuated the school, there would have been no muggleborn to serve as bait.

"You were unable to track down the Basilisk," Edwin prodded bitingly.

"Unfortunately not," responded Dumbledore. "I couldn't find where the Chamber of Secrets was located in the castle, therefore I couldn't find where it situated itself before it attacked for the fourth and final time."

"Hermione's petrification," said Nicholas.

Dumbledore nodded. "Miss. Granger had also learned what the creature was at that point. Though she was incapacitated at the time, she had still been able to help her friends figure it out, too. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley had gathered some other clues on top of Miss. Granger's that I had not been able to obtain in my own investigations, and they had been able to find the Chamber of Secrets."

"Where were you at this time?" Edwin questioned angrily. "Why had they felt they could not come to you with this information?"

"Minister Fudge and the school governors had forced me off the school grounds by then," Dumbledore answered sullenly, "I was not in the position to help either when they entered the Chamber of Secrets by themselves."

Edwin rubbed a hand over his face. "Merlin," he muttered.

"It was bedlam, Lord Commander" admitted Dumbledore. "An utter failure on my part –"

"You thought you could heroically conquer the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets on your own," Edwin cut in. "You thought that there was no point in evacuating the school when no child had not yet died from the attacks so you could continue this endeavour and –"

"You played with Hermione's life," whispered Nicholas, his words as cold and cutting as ice. "Your inactions led to her getting petrified – and the only reason she had been saved from death was because she was intelligent enough to carry around a mirror to deflect any possible attack she may encounter – all without mentioning Harry who had actually been bitten by the Basilisk and could have followed Hermione into an early grave because of your overconfidence." He shook his head. "Where would your arrogance have left us then? With the Saviour and the Lioness both dead, I would not have had any chance on my own, I would have died along with them – Albion would have simply an abandoned notion of unity as Voldemort would not have had anything to stand in his way of power."

Dumbledore tiredly lowered his head to eye the hands joint over his stomach. "I know my pride could have killed both Harry and Hermione, I know I could have destroyed Albion before it even had a chance to begin, and I know I had deliberately claimed superiority over others who could have done better," he said, tilting his head up and resolutely continuing, "I don't plan on making those mistakes again."

"Then tell me about that Horcrux in Harry's scar," Nicholas snapped, glowering upon noticing the shock on Dumbledore's face. "Oh, I apologise, did you plan to claim superiority over me by thinking I did not need to know?"

Dumbledore spluttered, "How – How did you find out?"

"We knew Voldemort would return just as you did," answered Edwin. "Harry showed me his memories of the Third Task and then told me about his and Hermione's years at Hogwarts – Nicholas and I were able to use that information and what we knew from the prophecies to work it out."

"Did you ever plan on letting Harry know?" Nicholas asked.

Dumbledore widened his eyes. "Have you told him?"

Nicholas ignored the question. "Answer me."

The Headmaster hesitated before he said, "I believe Harry should not be burdened with the knowledge of the Horcrux – not yet."

"Not – Not _yet?_ " Nicholas' face was twisted in rage. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"The Horcrux was inside him, Dumbledore," hissed Edwin. "I could not see how he was not burdened already."

"You told him?" Dumbledore asked again.

"We removed it," Edwin replied.

Dumbledore's distress was reflected on his face. "No," he whispered, rocking forward behind his desk, laying his elbows on it, and placing his face in his hands. "You shouldn't have removed it – you should have come to _me_."

Nicholas frowned and glanced at Edwin who appeared just as perplexed by Dumbledore's reaction to the news as he was. "This is a good thing, Headmaster," Nicholas said slowly, mockingly. "Both pieces anchoring Voldemort to this world – found in the diary and the scar – have been destroyed. Voldemort is mortal – Voldemort is killable."

Dumbledore shook his head, pitying Nicholas. "Voldemort is not mortal, Your Highness. Voldemort cannot be killed yet –" Dumbledore clenched his eyes shut and painfully revealed, "Voldemort has more than two Horcruxes."

There was a beat of silence before Edwin sprung from his seat and paced away from Dumbledore to the corner of the large chamber. " _Shit_ ," he cursed loudly, kicking at a wall bare of any instruments or portraits and leaving a prominent scuff in its place.

Nicholas glimpsed at Edwin in the corner of his eyes with furrowed eyebrows. "Regardless, Harry's Horcrux has been removed," Nicholas spoke, staring back at Dumbledore. "We will just have to find the others – I do not see the problem in what we had done, Dumbledore."

Edwin had walked back to stand beside Nicholas' seat, his arms were crossed and his jaw was working in fury. "Professor Dumbledore noticed the connection between Harry and Voldemort a long time ago, Your Highness. My guess is the Headmaster planned to use that connection to try and track down the other Horcruxes."

Nicholas turned to Dumbledore to see if there was any truth in Edwin's words. As Dumbledore avoided making any contact with Nicholas' molten silver eyes, the prince only grew more furious with the older man.

"You wished to _use_ Harry?" Nicholas asked disdainfully, "All without telling him anything?"

Dumbledore reasoned, "Harry is fifteen-years-old –"

"AND VOLDEMORT WILL STILL COME AFTER HIM!" Edwin bellowed, leaning down and slamming his fists on Dumbledore's desk, startling Nicholas. "Nicholas' guardian had decided to tell Nicholas everything on his eleventh birthday; the prophecy, the soul bond, _everything_ – and Nicholas had time to prepare for Voldemort's return –"

Dumbledore tried again, "Harry is only a child –"

"Compared to Nicholas, Harry is a blinded cripple feeling his way around because _you_ are keeping him in the dark," Edwin interrupted, continuing as his voice shook: "Nicholas is sixteen now – only a year older than Harry – and there will, no doubt, be assassination attempts on him, some of which I am sure are being deliberated at this very moment. I have made precautions for this: I have ensured there is an escape method on his person at all times, I have taught him how he could defend himself if it came down to wand-to-wand combat or even a battle without magic." He paused, just breathing for a second. "Through all of these measures, I know that maybe, just maybe, they will not be enough to save him – that someone may succeed and he will be murdered and everything I had done since the day I met him fourteen years ago will have meant nothing at all."

Astonishment held Nicholas in a choking grip as he watched Edwin shed one lone tear. Edwin quickly, perhaps shamefully, brushed the traitorous droplet aside and returned to crossing his arms across his chest, but Nicholas was still shaken by the amount of emotion the man was expressing.

Edwin seemed to be enduring great sadness as he persisted on with his voice tight, "I will never make peace with Nicholas' death if it happened, but I could make peace with myself – because I know I would have done everything I possibly could to avoid that outcome." The Lord Commander stepped forward and gazed directly at Dumbledore. "Could you, Headmaster? Could you make peace with yourself if Voldemort killed Harry? Could you look yourself in the mirror and say you did everything for the boy who looked up to you – to the boy who _trusted_ you?"

The Headmaster fell back in his burgundy dragonskin chair like he had been physically knocked back by a blowing punch to the gut; his eyebrows twitched as he goggled at Edwin as if he did not understand what he had just been told, but, at the same time, he understood completely, and what he understood troubled him greatly. Watching his expression, Nicholas knew Edwin had struck Dumbledore in a way he had never experienced before; the blow being as hard and true as Nicholas' sword would have been if it pieced into Dumbledore's heart. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was humbling down before Nicholas' eyes; his back began to slouch, his chest was decreasing in size, and his head eventually dropped so he was staring at his lap – it was then that Nicholas witnessed the first few drops of water falling from the elderly man's cheek, landing on his long, white beard and wetting it slightly.

Edwin sighed. "I know Harry is to you what Nicholas is to me," he said softly, treading along the office to Dumbledore's side and kneeling next to the older man whilst placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We are not enemies, Dumbledore, and I do not wish for us to become such. What I do wish, however, is for Harry, Nicholas, and Hermione to get the best of life they possibly can, despite their circumstances. I make this wish with great fervour, but I will need your help to achieve it."

"We _need_ to know everything you know, Headmaster," said Nicholas. "Harry, nor Hermione, nor I will get out of this war unscathed – this is me speaking on probability alone – even besides the prophecy! Voldemort will come after Harry simply for being the Boy-Who-Lived. Wizarding Britain will have hope as long as the one boy who survived the killing curse is alive, he will be a beacon for the people's faith, and Voldemort cannot let the people have faith in anyone but him if he wishes for total control."

"And that brings us to Hermione," Edwin stated. "Along with being a well-known friend of Harry, Hermione is a muggleborn who is also widely looked at as being an extremely clever and powerful witch by both her peers and teachers – utter blasphemy to the common pureblood supremacist – and she will be targeted for daring to rise up above their weaknesses, their ignorance. They will never let her live, not when the very idea of her goes against everything they believe."

Nicholas nodded. "Which is why I will also have to defend myself from assassination attempts. I am a muggleborn, but I am also heir to the throne – making my rank higher than the purebloods who sit on the government – and that is simply not acceptable to those who are used to being the most superior of the population."

Nicholas looked at his left-hand curling around the armrest of the chair he was on, absentmindedly stretching it out and coiling it back, and traced the back of the ring on his little finger with his thumb. Ragnarok's words flew around his head, _"Dumbledore is necessary if we are to win."_ The king was adamant in this opinion and Nicholas could not deny seeing how he was correct in his judgement. _Pride be damned_ , Nicholas thought, _I cannot let this fool leave Harry and Hermione defenceless – kissing his arse is a sacrifice I am willing to make._

Readjusting himself awkwardly, Nicholas admitted: "I am not ashamed to acknowledge the significant advantage you have over me, Professor Dumbledore; you have already fought in two wars, you have vital knowledge that will help end _this_ war, and you are in the position to give Harry and Hermione the training that Lord Commander Desmond and I will not be able to provide due to our positions."

Dumbledore's darkened blue eyes were intently focused on Nicholas. Raising his head, Nicholas met his cerulean gaze with sharpened silver, staring for a moment and deciding then to make a bold statement to get through to the man. Using the forefingers on his right hand to remove the ring on his left, Nicholas placed it on the desk in front of him as it heavily settled there with a _clink_ ; the shock of this action was palpable from Edwin and Dumbledore's faces.

Nicholas measured a small amount of vulnerability in his words as he implored, "Harry and Hermione need your help, Professor . . . and I am asking you, not as your future king, but as a sixteen-year-old afraid for his friend and soul mate, please help them. I do not care if you do not tell me about the Horcruxes, but I do care if you refuse to give Harry and Hermione the special training they desperately need."

Edwin's hand squeezed Dumbledore's frail shoulder so he could call the Headmaster's gaping attention back to him. "They must learn to protect their minds," he stated. "Nicholas is already protected – he has been studying Occlumency from when he was twelve-years-old – but Harry and Hermione are vulnerable. I should tell you that Hermione was eager to learn it, and I do not think Harry would be any different."

There was a small pause.

"It would be advantageous," Dumbledore admitted. "They already know things that would put the whole war effort at risk if found out by Lord Voldemort's followers."

"Precisely," Edwin smiled.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts regarded the ring of the House of Westerly for a moment, then motioned it towards Nicholas. Taking this as a gesture to pick up his inheritance, Nicholas attempted to do so as calmly as he could, as he had not anticipated how anxious he would feel without it on his finger, and kept a neutral expression on his face as he slid it back on – a wave of calm washed over him once it was secured.

"Whether you are my king or just a sixteen-year-old boy, I know you speak the truth," said Dumbledore. "I have wasted precious time trying to keep Harry's innocence when he had truly lost it long ago. There's much I will need to do to make up that lost time, but I am ready and willing. Harry and Hermione receiving Occlumency lessons when they are back at Hogwarts is only the beginning."

Nicholas jumped for joy inside his mind – _it worked!_

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Nicholas, refusing to reveal his true pleasure.

Dumbledore nodded. "I should tell you that I have nothing to hide from you, Your Highness."

Nicholas furrowed his eyebrows. "I do not understand . . ."

"I have nothing to gain in refraining from telling you everything I know," he declared.

The prince was unable to hide his surprise.

 _Could it be?_

"So you will tell me about the Horcruxes?" asked Nicholas.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Yes, I will."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, especially you JuliSt, but I fear with all the assignments I have to give in, and with exam season nearly beginning, I won't have much time to write. I know updates are already infrequent so I can at least try to keep my updates to the same level of rarity rather than make it any worse.**


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